All posts by Victor Tan Chen

Victor Tan Chen is In The Fray's editor in chief and the author of Cut Loose: Jobless and Hopeless in an Unfair Economy. Site: victortanchen.com | Facebook | Twitter: @victortanchen
 

Beware ‘Chinamen’ who make furniture

Blogger Josh Marshall was in New Hampshire at a Kerry rally when he overheard some choice racial epithets (served with a dash of Southern…

Blogger Josh Marshall was in New Hampshire at a Kerry rally when he overheard some choice racial epithets (served with a dash of Southern folksiness, of course) from Senator Fritz Hollings of South Carolina, the octogenarian Democrat and former presidential candidate:

When Hollings was getting underway on the jobs theme he said that half of the furniture in the United States (or some such stat) was now made in China. At just that moment a startling, crashing pop! came out of one of the loudspeakers. Not missing a beat, Hollings said that there must be some “chinamen” over there who didn’t like that.

A few minutes later he was talking about “ole Suskind’s book” and how, as reported in Ron Suskind’s book about Paul O’Neil, the president had blanched at the idea of giving yet another tax cut to the rich, only to have Dick Cheney pipe in to steady his course.

In Hollings’ retelling …

“‘Haven’t we already given the rich a tax cut?’ the president said. And then ole’ Cheney said, ‘No, we want more.’ He’s the Jesse Jackson of the Republican Party! He wants it all!’”

The Jesse Jackson of the Republican party?

You’d have to say that’s a bit off message for the contemporary Democratic party. But you could see the collective will of the audience for a moment awkwardly, and then decisively, opting to give the old guy a pass.

A while later when Kerry was giving his talk, and the speaker barked up again, he brought things back to the 21st century. “It’s that Chinese guy again …”

Well, you have to give the good old boy some credit: at least he didn’t use the n-word. Progressives have been progressing. Maybe someday — if we all keep our fingers crossed — there might even be such a thing as political correctness. Wouldn’t that be something?

Since we’re on the topic of speaking from the gut, check out this delightful conversation with President Bush, who is truly a man who needs to have his ribs.

Victor Tan Chen

Victor Tan Chen is In The Fray's editor in chief and the author of Cut Loose: Jobless and Hopeless in an Unfair Economy. Site: victortanchen.com | Facebook | Twitter: @victortanchen

 

Nurturing another Islam

Shirin Ebadi, the Iranian lawyer and human rights activist who won this year's Nobel Peace Prize, gave a speech this week in which she criticized the Bush administration's foreign policy — more or less in its entirety.…

Shirin Ebadi, the Iranian lawyer and human rights activist who won this year’s Nobel Peace Prize, gave a speech this week in which she criticized the Bush administration’s foreign policy — more or less in its entirety. Some states have violated the universal principles and laws of human rights by using the events of Sept. 11 and the war on terrorism as a pretext,” she said. A adapted version of the speech was published inThe Globe and Mail, a Canadian newspaper.

Here’s one particular quote from Ebadi’s essay that deserves re-reading:

I am a Muslim. In the Koran, the Prophet of Islam has said: “Thou shalt believe in thy faith and I in my religion.” That same divine book sees the mission of all prophets as that of inviting all human beings to uphold justice. Since the advent of Islam, Iran’s civilization and culture have become imbued and infused with humanitarianism, respect for the life, belief and faith of others, propagation of tolerance and avoidance of violence, bloodshed and war … The discriminatory plight of women in Islamic states, whether in the sphere of civil law or in the realm of social, political and cultural justice, has its roots in the male-dominated culture prevailing in these societies, not in Islam.

Commentators like to blame Islam for creating suicide bombers, oppressing women — even, as bizarre as it might seem, encouraging pedophila. As is the case for most religions, of course, Islam the faith is a lot different from Islam as the faithful practice it. After all, Christians found ways that the teachings of the great pacifist, Jesus Christ, could be used to justify burning alive thousands of Jews and Muslims during the Spanish Inquisition — it doesn’t take many aspiring demagogues before a religion of peace starts spawning legions of hatemongers. Thankfully, questions are beginning to be raised these days about the un-peaceful practices of certain religious extremists (during the Cold War, the United States found it useful to ignore the Muslim ones). Scholars are even questioning whether conventional translations of the Qur’an, Islam’s holy book, are accurate about some rather important points — is it seventy-two “virgins” or seventy-two “fruits”? (Not to be outdone, scholars of the New Testament are also raising some crucial questions.)

In spite of what the fundamentalists (of all faiths) might say, religion is a quite malleable thing — the devil, so to speak, is in the details, and who decides those details matters a great deal. The face that Islam will show in this new century will depend on which leaders take power in Muslim countries. Which brings me back to Shirin Ebadi. She is the kind of leader that Western countries should be encouraging — a Muslim feminist who implores other Muslims to remember their faith’s humanitarian spirit, its vision of global unity that the Iranian poet Rumi once described in this way: “The sons of Adam are limbs of one another/Having been created of one essence.” If Ebadi and other like-minded Muslims can gain power in their countries, they could do much more than the hordes of CIA agents and Special Forces commandoes embedded abroad presently seem capable of doing — that is, sweeping away the terrorist-inspiring hatred that has become America’s bugbear ever since it clawed its way across the ocean on September 11. Even the more neoconservative figures in the Bush administration — Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld, for instance — are finally coming to the view that, in addition to dropping bombs, it might be a good idea to start peddling a “kinder and gentler” Islam abroad.

The problem is, of course, that even liberal-minded Muslims like Ebadi are being alienated by the “shock and awe” foreign policy of the Bush administration. Ebadi asks: “Why is it that some decisions and resolutions of the UN Security Council are binding, while other council resolutions have no binding force? Why is it that in the past 35 years, dozens of UN resolutions concerning the occupation of the Palestinian territories by the state of Israel have not been implemented — yet, in the past 12 years, the state and people of Iraq were twice subjected to attack, military assault, economic sanctions, and, ultimately, military occupation?”

These are troubling questions — for the extremists, without question, but also for those Muslims who want to see an end to the fanaticism. If the United States truly wants to stop terrorism, it needs people like Ebadi on its side. But as long as the Bush administration stubbornly clings to its current policy of hyper-aggressive unilateralism — a policy that has created only more enemies in the Muslim world — liberal Muslims will have a hard time convincing anyone in their countries to listen to them. And that does not bode well for the sanctity of Islam, nor for the security of Americans.

Victor Tan Chen

Victor Tan Chen is In The Fray's editor in chief and the author of Cut Loose: Jobless and Hopeless in an Unfair Economy. Site: victortanchen.com | Facebook | Twitter: @victortanchen

 

The battle after Seattle

BEST OF IDENTIFY 2003 (tie). Four years after the landmark 1999 protests in Seattle, times are tougher for the global justice movement. But activists are adapting by broadening their ranks, shifting their tactics, and envisioning an alternative world.

Protesters march through downtown Washington, demonstrating against the “war on terrorism,” corporate power, and globalization, among other things. April 20, 2002.

About 2,500 police officers had shown up in downtown Miami, hailing from more than forty local, state, and federal agencies. With their black helmets, chest armor, and body shields, they looked like twenty-first-century Roman legionnaires, staring down the barbarian hordes from beneath their polycarbonate visors. Their adversaries were some 15,000 strong: protesters, mostly labor union members, with smatterings of dreadlocked anarchists, backpack-toting students, and gray-haired retirees, who had come to Miami to demonstrate during the week’s negotiations over a hemisphere-wide trade pact known as the Free Trade Area of the Americas (FTAA). As activists ended their protest march on that sunny Thursday afternoon, police began their own. Slowly but relentlessly, they pushed the crowd back with wooden batons, firing rubber bullets and drenching the crowds in pepper spray as they advanced. A police spokesperson said the melee — what seemed more like a rout — started with a few protesters hurling rocks. By the end of the next day, 231 people had been arrested, and dozens injured, including a handful of police officers.

Two months earlier, at the World Trade Organization’s (WTO) summit in Cancún, Mexico, there were thousands of police as well, though they did not march, nor fire any bullets. They did not have to. Eight-foot-tall chain-link fences had been erected all along the road leading into the Mexican resort town’s “hotel zone,” where trade ministers from around the globe were meeting. The protesters, their placards, and their puppets stayed on one side; the riot cops stayed on the other. Activists ripped down the first security perimeter on two occasions that week, but for the most part the crowd of several thousand was kept where police wanted them — miles away from the trade negotiations.

Four years after the landmark protests in Seattle that shut down a WTO ministerial meeting and landed the “anti-globalization” movement on the map, activism against free trade and corporate power has not gotten any easier. Authorities have responded to the mass mobilizations at every international summit by moving their events to far-off locales, where social movements are weak and trucking in large numbers of activists is next to impossible. Police have learned from the failures of Seattle, cordoning off key city blocks in advance and using a combination of tall fences and non-lethal firepower to keep protesters in line. And though last year’s demonstrations against the Iraq War helped bring back the nation’s taste for popular protest, American activists in the past two years have had to deal with an unfavorable political climate ever since September 11, when pundits started likening anti-globalization to terrorism and anti-Americanism.

“There’s a lot of reasons we got lucky in Seattle,” says Gan Golan, a Boston-based activist who participated in the so-called “Battle in Seattle” and spent last summer helping organize the anti-WTO protests in Cancún. “We’re seeing incredible advances in [police] tactics. They’re learning their lessons, and we’re learning ours.”

While it’s likely Golan and his friends will never shut down another WTO ministerial again, there are signs that their movement is adapting to new realities. One difference is in the ways activists now identify themselves. Rejecting the “anti-globalization” label that critics foisted on them four years ago, many have settled on a more proactive name for their work: “global justice.” They have broadened both their ranks and issues to widen appeal. And they have made strides in addressing the question that has vexed them in newspaper editorial columns for years: What does their movement stand for? “I think what you see here,” says Walden Bello, director of the Focus on the Global South, “is what The New York Times said: There are only two global superpowers at this point — one is the United States, and the other is global civil society.”

Rather than offering a single solution, global justice activists have staked their movement’s future on the two things that critics have continually called its “weaknesses”: the “incoherent” diversity of its membership, and its “ineffective” style of democratic organizing. “I think now the politics is one of, ‘Diversity is healthy,’” says David Solnit, an activist from Oakland, California. Solnit quotes a saying of the Zapatistas, the Mexican indigenous rights movement: “One no, many yeses.” “We all have a similar enemy, but we all create an alternative ourselves in a thousand different ways,” he says. That means not just diverse agendas, but diverse tactics; not just demanding more accountability from political leaders, but achieving a radically democratic way of life. “The globalization from above is corporate capitalism and people who want to control the world,” Solnit says. “From below, it’s those of us who want to reorganize society and empower people and restructure the world.” At the World Social Forum, the annual gathering of activists and intellectuals dedicated to global justice, that spirit has its own slogan: “Another world is possible.”

Two boys join their families in denouncing the occupation of Palestine. April 20, 2002.

‘A world where many worlds fit’

If you want to understand the roots of the global justice movement, you have to look long before the 1999 Seattle protest — decades before. Beginning in the mid-1970s, the International Monetary Fund (IMF) and World Bank began imposing “austerity” measures on a wide range of countries in Latin America, Asia, and Africa. Billions of dollars of loans were provided, but under stringent conditions: that governments cut social spending, loosen controls on foreign capital, privatize state-owned firms, and follow other tenets of the so-called “neoliberal” economic model. Intended to help revitalize national economies weighed down by colossal amounts of debt, these “structural adjustment” policies arguably worsened already desperate levels of unemployment and starvation in many countries. Over the next two decades, widespread popular protest erupted in country after country: Peru, Chile, Bolivia, Tunisia, Morocco, Egypt, Brazil, Dominican Republic, Argentina, and Zambia, among others.

Few people in Northern countries seemed to care. Then, on January 1, 1994, the North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA) went into effect. That same day, an army representing 1,111 indigenous communities occupied five cities and towns in the Mexican state of Chiapas. The insurgents demanded basic social services: schools, clinics, electricity, running water. They denounced Northern-imposed, corporate-controlled policies of free trade — in a word, neoliberalismo. Taking their name from Emiliano Zapata, a hero of the Mexican Revolution, the Zapatista National Liberation Army (EZLN) called upon the world to defy the neoliberal order. But they refused to advocate one alternative. In their Fourth Declaration of the Lacandón Jungle, the Zapatistas declared: “The world we want is one where many worlds fit.”

When the Zapatista uprising happened, Jeff Duritz was living on the Cayman Islands, teaching scuba diving and saving up his money. He had just graduated from college and was out to see the world. Between dips into the sea, Duritz would stop by the local library to catch up on The New York Times. “I remember reading about this Indian uprising in southeastern Mexico,” he says. “A lot of them had guns, but some of them only had sticks and they were riding around on the back of trucks. They were saying that they wanted to overthrow the government of Mexico … And it was just preposterous — ‘Like, who are these people, what the hell are they doing?’”

Seven years later, Duritz went to Mexico to witness the Zapatista struggle for himself. He arrived in Chiapas just in time to join the EZLN in the largest mobilization of its history: a caravan of thousands of Zapatistas and foreign allies, traveling from rural, impoverished Chiapas to downtown Mexico City, where the “Zapatour” was going to confront their national legislators and demand the passage of an indigenous Bill of Rights. Along the way, Duritz saw first-hand the democratic style of organizing that the Zapatistas preached and practiced. Many international journalists had focused on the charismatic spokesperson of the movement, Subcomandante Marcos — the masked man who quoted Lewis Carroll and Borges and wrote poetry. But Marcos insisted that he was not the leader, but merely a “subcomandante.” Decisions were made by the twenty-four-person council of Zapatista commanders, each chosen by their respective communities.

Theirs was a struggle that went far beyond the Lacandón Jungle. The subcomandante once told a reporter, “Marcos is gay in San Francisco, black in South Africa, an Asian in Europe, a Chicano in San Ysidro, an anarchist in Spain, a Palestinian in Israel, a Mayan Indian in the streets of San Cristobal, a Jew in Germany, a Gypsy in Poland, a Mohawk in Quebec, a pacifist in Bosnia, a single woman on the Metro at 10 p.m., a peasant without land, a gang member in the slums, an unemployed worker, an unhappy student, and, of course, a Zapatista in the mountains.” Duritz was not sure what to make of the Zapatistas’ radical acceptance of diversity, springing as it did among indigenous people with limited education living in the poverty-stricken countryside of Mexico. “Here’s the Zapatistas, they get all this respect — what happens when they hit a provincial area?” Duritz says. “Everybody comes out, and then Marcos … says, ‘We want rights for the taxi drivers. And we want rights for the domestic servants and we need equal treatment for the street sweepers,’ and people are cheering, ‘and we need equal rights for gays and lesbians!’ And people just cheered.”

If one event could be called the beginning of the modern-day global justice movement, the Zapatista uprising is probably it, Solnit says. Many of the people who would go on to organize anti-WTO demonstration in Seattle attended the encuentros in the jungle of Chiapas, where members of the ragtag guerrilla army gathered to talk strategy. It was one of the earliest articulations of the vision that would motivate global justice activists in the years to come: radical democracy and radical diversity. “I think of a new politics of people not trying to take power but trying to exercise it themselves.” says Solnit. “The Zapatistas didn’t want to take over the government. They wanted to have autonomy within their own community, and then catalyze other communities to do the same.”

Five years after the Zapatista uprising, the diversity that Subcomandante Marcos had philosophized about suddenly became a reality — in the Pacific Northwest. The “Battle in Seattle” drew tens of thousands of demonstrators from around the country and across the globe. “Teamsters and Turtles, Together At Last!” read one of the signs, and sure enough, trade unionists from the AFL-CIO were out in full force, alongside the environmentalists they had once shunned. The Teamsters and turtles were joined by a hodgepodge of other activists loosely tied together by a common distrust of the WTO. They ranged from radical anarchists to liberal environmentalists to centrist union members — and even included a contingent of die-hard conservatives (right-wing political commentator and presidential candidate Patrick Buchanan was in Seattle, along with his “Buchanan Brigaders,” arguing that the WTO threatened the sovereignty of the United States). For Russell Howze, an artist and activist from San Francisco, the spectacle downtown was mesmerizing. “I remember just walking down the street at 6 or 7 in the morning … and all colors, all nationalities — and I just remember going, ‘Holy shit! There are people in the world that think like I do.’”

Journalist and activist Naomi Klein has called the 1999 Seattle protest the global justice movement’s “coming out party” — that decisive moment when a “movement of many smaller movements” that had labored for decades in relative isolation and obscurity suddenly reached hands across oceans and marshaled an army in the very heart of the capitalist world, the United States. Activists who were there almost universally describe Seattle as a personally transforming experience — as one activist puts it, that moment when she swallowed the “red pill” that sucked her out of the corporate Matrix. But in recent years, it has also become increasingly clear that, in spite of Seattle’s unprecedented coalition, the U.S. global justice movement has failed to mobilize key segments of the population.

The Wonder Bread “whiteness” of the global justice movement is one of its most widely acknowledged handicaps. Shutting down the WTO was a “great victory,” points out one African American activist, but where were the people of color? “You talk about anti-globalization and the effects of globalization, and it’s on people of color, so where was that voice?” says Seth Markle, a youth activist from New York. There were some foreign protesters on hand, but for the most part, if political diversity went on parade in Seattle, racial and socioeconomic diversity stayed at home.

Stephen Dietrich, a white punk/anarchist from Santa Rosa, California, says that racism, sexism, and other kinds of prejudice continue to be a problem in the movement. “These are all the things that we’re fighting against, but they’re all socialized into us,” he says. Other activists point out that flying people across the globe to protest at these summits costs money — money that communities of color tend not to have. People of color are also loath to get arrested, concerned about how the criminal justice system will treat them. Finally, many communities just aren’t aware of the importance of trade issues. “Nobody knows what the FTAA means. White, black, yellow — nobody knows,” says Barbara Salvaterra, a Brazilian activist who helped organize protests against the FTAA for the group Jobs with Justice. “Most [global justice] activists are people who are well-informed in politics, in international politics.”

The movement has made some progress in recent years in bridging these divides. Organizations like Jobs with Justice and Global Exchange provide grants to help activists with low incomes afford the costs of travel and lodging to global justice-related events. At the movement’s organizing sessions — known as “spokescouncil” meetings — speakers of foreign languages get running translations of what’s being said. And when activists return from protests, they often give “report backs” to let people back home know what happened.

The Cancún WTO ministerial in September became an occasion for activists from Latin America to take a more visible role in an international protest. While there were hundreds of foreigners on hand — Americans, Canadians, Europeans, Australians, South Koreans, and South Africans, among others — the bulk of the week’s turnout was comprised of Mexican students and farmworkers, with sizeable delegations from Central and South America. “I think the real story here [in Cancún] is the interpersonal connections that are happening, that totally transcend national borders,” says Dave Meddle, a twenty-eight-year-old activist from the San Francisco Bay Area.

Activists are also getting better at talking about issues of diversity. “I think the global justice movement has had a lot of internal dialogue about race, where you actually saw the movement change,” says Carwil James, a twenty-seven-year-old activist from Oakland, California. “It’s hard to say at a national level, but definitely at the local level that’s taking place.” In October, James, who is African American, went to a conference sponsored by Anarchist People of Color, a group founded two years ago to help people of color find their place in the white-dominated anarchist community. James feels that lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgendered issues have also gained greater prominence within the movement in recent years. “There’s a strong sense of community across that whole space, and a sense of not atomizing ourselves,” James says. “One of the things that capitalism has us do is divide ourselves up into little nuclear families, little consumption units.”

Even as the movement has made progress in working across lines of identity, however, stark ideological differences have remained between its two major constituencies — that is, labor and everyone else. Whereas some global justice activists argue that poor countries need greater access to the U.S. market, for example, labor leaders often favor tariffs to keep foreign competitors out (the recent debate over the Bush administration’s tariffs on imported steel, which benefited American steelworkers at the expense of their foreign counterparts, is a case in point). Union activists are optimistic that they can eventually bridge these divides. More rank-and-file members — especially younger ones — are coming to the conclusion that they can’t ignore the plight of workers overseas, says John W. Murphy, assistant business manager for the Tampa, Florida, local of the International Brotherhood of Electrical Workers. “There’s a groundswell of realization that we can no longer succeed with that mindset,” he says. “It’s about every person sticking up for other people, regardless of race or sexual orientation, and not [for] the fat cat politicians who are running our nations and the globe.”

For their part, top officials at the AFL-CIO, the country’s largest federation of labor unions, point to their current support of immigrant rights, a dramatic reversal for an organization that from its earliest years built its strength by channeling workers’ anger against African Americans and immigrant coolie labor. “We’ve really moved much further on immigration policy than we have in the past, and this is only in the past five years,” said John Sweeney, president of the AFL-CIO, said at a teach-in earlier this month in the Boston area. “There will be differences, but we have to find common interests and common ground.”

Kevin Danaher agrees. “I’m in meetings sometimes with anarchists who say, ‘Fuck the trade unions!’” says Danaher, co-founder of Global Exchange, an international human rights organization that has played a prominent role in the global justice movement. But without the trade unions, he adds, there won’t be a mass movement: “You aren’t talking revolution, you’re talking parlor games. You’re talking café debate.” The movement needs to build a “unity of diversity,” Danaher says. “If you can build unity, my team can be smaller and less well-funded than yours and less talented, but if we’re more united and your team is divided against itself, we’re going to kick your ass because you’re wasting energy fighting amongst yourselves.”

A protester brings new meaning to the slogan “Death to capitalism.” April 20, 2002.

Smart mobs

If “anti-globalization” brings to mind black-hooded protestors throwing rocks through storefront windows, David Solnit doesn’t fit the TV image. A carpenter by profession, a puppetmaker by avocation, the thirty-nine-year-old activist is stick-thin and boyish-looking, with only a light stubble of red hair on his jowls and a voice that tends, in personal conversation, toward the inaudible. His everyday demeanor may not exactly rouse the rabble, but other activists in the movement are seemingly uniform on one point: Solnit is one of the movement’s best organizers, a mover and shaker in a resistance movement that, by principle, has no leaders.

Solnit also happens to be one of the movement’s most ardent proponents of unconventional, creative forms of protest. In his view, the movement’s broad repertoire of tactics and its constant innovations have allowed it to keep an edge over authorities, even as it has faced greater repression. “I think resistance is like an ecosystem and you need a diversity of ways for different communities and different people to struggle and try and change things,” Solnit says. “In a monoculture, just like in agriculture, if everyone does the same thing it’s unhealthy. When everybody does different stuff it really complements [things] and makes the whole greater than the sum of the parts.”

In the mid-1990s, Solnit and his fellow activist-minded artists founded a radical protest group known as Art and Revolution. Inspired by groups like Bread & Puppet and Wise Fool Puppet Intervention, activists at Art and Revolution were trying to get beyond the tactics of traditional demonstrations: placard-waving, shouted slogans, occupied buildings, endless petitions. Instead, they used puppetry, music, and street theater to make their point — and make it lively. (In Britain, a similar movement called Reclaim the Streets drew attention by staging “festivals of resistance” — huge parties that blockaded the streets with masses of dancing and singing people.)

The idea was that art could break out of the linear communication of traditional forms of protest. Signs could be overlooked, slogans could be ignored, but art was irresistible, directing its messages straight to the heart and gut. Art and Revolution’s objective wasn’t to decorate the old sign-and-shout protests, but to restructure them: Dreary marches were to be exchanged for “festivals of resistance”; sheep-following-the-shepherd for “participatory street theater.” In Seattle, using these creative tactics helped activists to bring together diverse groups, assert their presence on the streets, and befuddle authorities (“partly they didn’t quite know how to respond and partly they looked ridiculous when they responded rudely to puppets and dance,” Solnit says).

Especially since Seattle, the artful protest that Solnit and others pioneered has “spread like a virus” throughout the movement. Artist-activists swear by its effectiveness. For the protests surrounding the 2000 Democratic National Convention in Los Angeles, Jonathan Youtt worked with two other artists to create a two-headed “corporate monster” puppet: one head was George W. Bush, who wielded a “lethal injection” syringe in his hand, and the other head was Al Gore, who was depicted tossing democracy into the toilet. On the pinstripes of the suit that the Gore-Bush monster wore were written the hundred corporations that gave $10,000 donations to both parties. “One picture, one image, could basically show corporations controlling the political system,” Youtt says.

Music, too, has become an important part of the global justice protest scene. Pod, a thirty-five-year-old San Francisco artist and activist, carried a drum when he marched in the 1999 Seattle demonstration. He and other drummers would head to the “hot spots” — the places where cops were about to clash with protestors — and start a lively rhythm to try to deescalate the tension. “I remember being in this alley and there was a stand-off with cops and protesters and there was a real nervous tension in the air, as to whether or not people were going to start getting pepper-sprayed,” Pod says. “And we started a certain rhythm … to create a festive atmosphere.” It worked, Pod says; the people on the street became visibly calmer as the drummers drummed away.

At global justice protests these days, you will bump into groups like the Radical Cheerleaders, who dance at the frontlines shouting cheers like, “Free people, not free trade!,” and the Infernal Noise Brigade, a marching band dressed in black coolie hats and fluorescent orange stripes that generates a truly infernal, if heart-thumping, racket. In Miami, the cheerleaders were on hand, dressed in flashy purples and pinks and fishnet stocking, with their hair in pigtails and wrapped up in bandannas. “You get to be loud, you get to run around and do all this — and you also get people to listen to ideas that they might not listen to otherwise,” says Carwil James, the only cheerleader sporting curly chin stubble along with his pompoms. “It’s a lot easier to shout down capitalism and the state with a pompom, for some reason, and have people on your side.”

In recent years, global justice artists have taken their agitprop to another level. In Cancún, for instance, puppetistas fashioned an ensemble of Mayan deities to bring home a political point: The “gods were angry” that WTO’s policies were hurting indigenous communities. A towering, faux-stone rendition of Chac, the Mayan god of rain, was meant to highlight the dangers of privatizing water utilities — a WTO-supported intervention protested by poor people throughout the global South, who believe they shouldn’t have to pay multinational corporations for their tap water. In newspaper photographs and TV clips that appeared afterward, Chac and the other Mayan gods figured prominently. “No matter how much control the authorities have over the press … still a beautiful image of a puppet is going to get documented because they got to run something with the story,” says Youtt.

At the 1999 anti-WTO protest, activists showed off another tactical innovation: “direct democracy.” This organizing approach borrowed heavily from previous movements, including the Spanish anarchists of the 1930s and American feminist and anti-nuclear activists from the 1980s. In Seattle, non-hierarchical “affinity groups” of five to twenty people packed the downtown streets, working as teams within loose coalitions known as “clusters.” The clusters, in turn, sent their representatives (known as “spokes”) to “spokescouncil” meetings where the protesters collectively decided important issues for action — though leaving the ultimate decision about whether and how to act to the affinity groups themselves.

Activists insist that their commitment to direct democracy amounts to more than a moral fetish. After participating in decision-making, they say, people are more willing to take ownership over their actions. “It’s almost a way of ritualizing your own commitment — saying, ‘I’m committed to this course of action,’” says Golan, who adds that the “wisdom” of the decisions often improve with more people making them. Direct democracy also encourages people to stay on top of the relevant issues. “You’re going to have more people care and be involved,” says Youtt. “They’re going to say, ‘Oh, wow, I came to that meeting and I affected the direction of that meeting by my comment. And I’ll continue to be informed.’” (Youtt works at a San Francisco arts collective that runs itself on a “hybrid” consensus-based model — that is, the group strives for consensus, but as a last resort it will allow a three-quarters majority vote to move things forward.)

In Cancún, the activists held their meetings in a hot and stuffy room on the third floor of the convergence center. A sign tacked to the wall listed more than a dozen “principles and practices” to abide by (“don’t interrupt,” “become a good, non-defensive listener,” and so on). “Meetings are often long and difficult,” the sign concluded. “Let’s all work to create a safe, open, and loving space for all to be able to share their thoughts, feelings, and concerns.” At some meetings, activists will appoint a person to be a “vibes-watcher” — someone pays attention to the group’s interactions to make sure feelings aren’t hurt and speakers are sensitive to gender and other issues.

Cesár Ariza, a Mexican global justice activist with the group Juventud Global, pointed out that the Cancún convergence center was a place with no leaders. “There is no group controlling this space. We operate in a democratic manner,” he said. That sentiment is shared by many global justice activists, who insist that they will not allow any one person or clique to define their agenda. For one thing, having a small group of leaders allows the police to decapitate the movement by arresting them. Beyond the pragmatic reasons, however, there is also a matter of principle: Direct democracy is about transforming relationships, and transforming the larger society. “We don’t want a few people to be in charge,” Solnit says. “That’s part of our critique of society — that there are a few people at the top making decisions for everyone else.”

The Cancún protests showed how versatile such a decentralized approach to organizing could be. When protesters couldn’t march past the fences, they slipped by the security in taxis and buses posing as small groups of tourists. Three activists climbed up a construction crane and hoisted a banner that read “¡Qué se vayan todos!” (the slogan of protesters last year in Argentina, loosely translated as “Throw the bums out!”) within sight of the convention center. Later that night, affinity groups converged on the street alongside the center, staging a sit-down strike that tied up the police for hours. Roving media activists with camcorders documented the demonstration, watching over police and gathering evidence for possible legal battles. “What this protest shows is where there is a will there is a way,” Golan told me during the sit-in. “People have found those holes in the fences and found ways to get inside the convention center and stage a protest here.” Their strategy worked, Golan says, because of the decentralized, autonomous structure of the movement, which allows individual affinity groups to make quick decisions and adapt to changing circumstances — what some call the “smart mobs” approach to organizing.

Go to part two

Victor Tan Chen is In The Fray's editor in chief and the author of Cut Loose: Jobless and Hopeless in an Unfair Economy. Site: victortanchen.com | Facebook | Twitter: @victortanchen

 

The battle after Seattle (part two)

BEST OF IDENTIFY 2003 (tie). Four years after the landmark 1999 protests in Seattle, times are tougher for the global justice movement. But activists are adapting by broadening their ranks, shifting their tactics, and envisioning an alternative world.

Go to part one

In recent years, the activists have refined their use of direct democracy, discovering new ways to use technology (anything from cell phones to pirate radio) to keep their various groups coordinated. Weeks before the FTAA summit in Miami was set to take place, protest organizers were holding their spokescouncil meetings over telephone conference calls. “We’ve had to figure out how you organize with direct democracy when people are all over the place, and most people can’t come here weeks early,” says Starhawk, a veteran organizer. Moreover, activists are getting better about coordinating the protest actions on the streets and the ones inside the convention halls — as the authorities learned, to their chagrin, in Cancún. “They thought that they could keep the voice of civil society out, [behind the barricades] seventeen kilometers away, but everyday we’ve been able to come in, and show the WTO what the other side is,” says Walden Bello of Focus on the Global South, who helped stage anti-WTO publicity stunts inside the convention center the week of the ministerial. The defiance is contagious: Marches and rallies of thousands of people build up “street heat,” which inspires representatives of nongovernmental organizations to stage their own demonstrations from within the security perimeter — which encourage delegates from developing countries to resist the demands of the United States, European Union, and Japan during trade negotiations (as members of the G21, a group of twenty-one developing countries led by Brazil, China, and India, did at the Cancún trade talks).

If the global justice movement has managed to adapt to growing repression in recent years, some of its older tactics are increasingly being questioned. At every large protest, you can find men and women dressed in black, professing anarchist beliefs, who smash windows and perform other acts of vandalism — and sometimes rough it up with cops. In defense of their form of protest, activists who use “Black Bloc” strategies explicitly appeal to the movement’s own notions of inclusiveness, saying it should be open to a diversity of tactics. As one woman in black wrote: “Third World peasants, vulnerable in their poverty, generally cannot challenge the ultra powerful multinationals … We are the voices of the voiceless, and we must be loud, because the men in suits high up in their office towers don’t hear the screams of misery below or see the wasted ruins of the Earth. So, we attack their symbols. It’s the least we can do.”

But as Jerry Mander sees it, the property destruction and violence simply undermine the protesters’ credibility and suppress their message. “I understand why people do it, out of frustration and so on, but … it’s, in the end, counterproductive,” says Mander, who is the president of the International Forum on Globalization, a think tank critical of free trade and corporate power. “Because then the media covers the violence.” That has been the trend ever since Seattle, Mander says, “Once [the property destruction] happened — which all the other protestors tried to stop — once that happened, the media only reported that and we had no more substantive reporting from that day forward. It’s police vs. protestors. Period.”

Mander and other activists say that the actual amount of violence in the movement is being grossly overstated. “The only violence is the violence of the World Trade Organization, which needs to police us as if we were thieves when they are the ones who are robbing us,” says Javier Sánchez Ansó, director of international relations for COAG, a Spanish farmworkers’ group. Dietrich, an anarchist who is affiliated with the Green Bloc (activists into “guerrilla gardening” and other forms of pro-environment direct action), says that news reports misinform the public about his movement. “The media has just drilled home that we [anarchists] are violent, angry, young white men,” he says. “But that’s not true. I am a young white male, but not violent. The media portrayal of anarchy and anarchism, it never goes into the debate about the politics of what anarchy is, it’s just, ‘Anarchy is chaos.’ Anarchy is people doing it for themselves, direct democracy at its best and finest.”

Nevertheless, the focus on violence in the nightly news seems to be having an effect: In the days before protests began in Cancún, locals said they feared the activists coming into their city. Gabriel Marez, a forty-five-year-old waiter at the La Ruina cantina, told me that he was opposed to the FTAA and other free trade agreements, but added that the protesters upset him: “I am not in agreement with radical forms of protest, with the violence.”

“Personally, I don’t think throwing things at the police brings about social change,” says Danaher of Global Exchange, whose mother was a police officer. “You’re not going to have a revolution in the U.S. with a unified police force. There has to be a significant portion of the police who realize that it’s in their self-interest to be neutral in the class struggle between capital and labor.” Danaher does police liaison work during demonstrations, and speaks with pride about the occasions when police officers tell him, “We really appreciate that you’re trying to humanize the situation.” These days, Danaher is trying to start a nonviolence training camp to bring together police and activists. He says such a confab could help the two sides to better understand each other, and help the global justice movement win allies among the ranks of blue.

After Seattle police were roundly criticized for allowing their city to descend into chaos during the 1999 WTO ministerial, the police have put on a massive show of force at every international summit. (In Miami, law enforcement agencies received $8.5 million from the $87 billion Iraq reconstruction bill to protect the city from protesters: The funds helped pay for helicopters, armored personnel carriers, and an array of sophisticated weaponry.) Now that police have so many resources at their disposal, the global justice movement should think about moving away from its strategy of “summit-hopping,” some activists say.

“I think that you’re never going to win a fight with the cops. You just won’t,” says David Amdur, a community organizer for the East Boston Ecumenical Community Council, a progressive organization that works with the local Latino community to further immigrant rights. Before he landed his current job, Amdur worked for years as an activist on international causes — first in solidarity with Latin American social movements (he lived in E45El Salvador from 1996 to 2000) and then as a member of the Boston Global Action Network. But these days he believes he’s doing more good by working in local communities. “Part of me feels that the most important maybe is to stay here, to organize something here,” he says. “And the most vital of all is not just to focus on globalization and a summit — it’s about educating people about the FTAA, and motivating people to take action and stop it.”

Amdur and other activists say they shouldn’t abandon the protests, which help energize people and get different groups talking to one another. They acknowledge that the global justice movement has made some efforts to bring local voices to the large-scale protests (consider, for example, Root Cause, a South Florida-based coalition that staged a thirty-four-mile march the week of the Miami ministerial to highlight the FTAA’s potential impact on local communities). But in their view, some sectors of the movement have a misguided belief that protests alone will put an end to free trade agreements. Meanwhile, the focus on demonstrations keeps the movement from doing other important work, such as building coalitions that include more people of color and working-class Americans. “There are times for big mobilizations,” Amdur says, “but there are times when you need to have organizing, education, and mobilizing in your community, because you have to realize in terms of class, in terms of race, and in terms of immigration status, not everyone can go to these big protests.”

A protester holds his opinion high in front of the World Bank’s headquarters in Washington. April 20, 2002.

Global solutions

Writing in The New York Times the very day that global justice protesters clashed with Italian police in Genoa, Thomas L. Friedman declared the anti-globalization movement to be a bunch of irresponsible naysayers: “To be against globalization is to be against so many things — from cell phones to trade to Big Macs — that it connotes nothing. Which is why the anti-globalization protests have produced noise but nothing that has improved anyone’s life.” This portrait of an “anti-globalization” movement of Luddites and reactionaries became even darker after September 11. Soon after the terrorist attacks, Britain’s international development secretary, Clare Short, warned: “There is a danger that the terrorists and the anti-globalization protestors will get what they want, which is to blow up world trade and to separate us.” Canadian journalist Leonard Stern was a tad kinder: The demonstrators were “still several rungs behind Osama bin Laden,” he said, even if they were “climbing the same ladder.”

Global justice activists say their critics are misguided. “It has nothing to do with being afraid of globalization. It has everything to do with putting forward a new form of globalization,” says Bill Moore-Kilgannon, director of campaigns and communications for the Council of Canadians, a Canadian citizens’ watchdog organization. But part of what makes the criticism stick is the fact that the global justice movement has done such a bad job of getting its message out into the mainstream media. “I think some reporters are just lazy,” says Jason Mark, co-author (with Danaher) of the new book Insurrection: Citizen Challenges to Corporate Power. “And it’s a lot easier to just write the story in a simple way. I think another part of the challenge is that these issues are a lot more complicated than an anti-war march is. At an anti-war march it’s very simple to get the message: ‘No War.’ Two words … But if you go and interview somebody in the street about the IMF, even without their protesting, it’s going to be difficult for them to offer their vision.”

These days, global justice activists are trying to spell out that vision — on the streets and in the convention halls. Instead of just shouting their opposition to the WTO and other suspect multilateral institutions, they stage “alternative” summits just blocks away from the trade ministerials — anything from forest forums to farmworker gatherings to fair trade confabs. (In Cancún, anarchists from the Green Bloc even built their own “eco-village” in a city park, featuring exhibits of some of the sustainable technologies that people could use in their own communities, such as systems to collect rain for drinking water.) The movement’s most ambitious effort to institutionalize alternatives, however, has been the World Social Forum, an annual gathering that for the past three years has been held in Porto Alegre, Brazil — at the same time that business elites and heads of state meet up in Davos, Switzerland, for their World Economic Forum. The next World Social Forum will be held in January in Mumbai, India; like the first, it will bring together global justice activists from around the world to discuss the movement’s alternatives to neoliberalism.

The going has been slow, but in recent years it seems that the various activist communities have made some progress in sketching out their alternative world. Some of their economic proposals include:

  • Last year, the International Forum on Globalization (IFG) put out a book, Alternatives to Economic Globalization — the product of a three-year discussion by nineteen academics and policy analysts, including Bello, Mander, and Vandana Shiva. Their report calls for a moratorium on the negotiation of new trade agreements, and also highlights a wide range of “alternative” systems for energy, transportation, agriculture, and manufacturing — from hydrogen fuel cells to “smart growth” urban planning, from local food production to accounting methods that take into account environmental cleanup costs.

    At the heart of IFG’s alternative vision is a concept called subsidiarity. “Subsidiarity doesn’t exactly mean localization,” Mander says. “What it means is that power should reside in the governing unit that’s closest to the people where practical.” When dealing with global crises like AIDS or ozone depletion, there is a need for international arrangements with some degree of power “because everybody’s in the same soup,” Mander says. “But they should be one at a time. They should be one case at a time. There should not be an overall structure that dominates all of these things, like the World Trade Organization tries to be.”

    Diversity and democracy are entwined in this idea of subsidiarity — diversity in the promotion of a variety of local solutions to problems, and democracy in the decentralization of production. “The great thing about wind and solar [energy],” Mark of Global Exchange points out, “is you can put it everywhere. The idea is, okay, if each community is creating their own energy source … then that creates more community control, local control. It helps and enhances democracy.” As Danaher puts it, “The basic idea is, democratize access to capital. Capital is horseshit. Concentrated in a pile, it stinks. Spread it out, it makes things grow. It’s like fertilizer, right?”

  • Promoting diversity is also one of the explicit goals of Berkeley’s BREAD Hours, one of the world’s local exchange trading systems. An alternative to the greenback, BREAD Hours allow Berkeley residents to keep money within the local community. BREAD Hours are based on labor: Individuals provide services in exchange for Hours, which they can use at local shops, restaurants, and business. (Ithaca, New York, has a similar currency called Ithaca HOURS, and Argentina’s RGT system, a national trading and barter network, transacts several million U.S. dollars of business every year.)
  • Fair trade” is another diversity-friendly form of production that has taken off in the past decade. To be certified fair trade, goods must meet certain standards — among other things, the producers have to receive a stable, minimum price, and the goods must be made under safe working conditions, without forced labor or exploitative child labor. Today, a wide range of products — including coffee, chocolate, and crafts — receive international fair-trade certification, allowing consumers to make sure their purchasing reflects their values. According to Global Exchange, fair trade coffee every year benefits 350,000 farmers organized into more than 300 cooperatives in twenty-two countries; fair trade products overall accounted for $100 million in sales in the United States in 2000. Even Starbucks — whose store managers are never too happy to see anarchists waltz by their plate-glass windows — now sells fair trade coffee in its stores.
  • While some global justice activists want to get rid of corporations altogether, others want to reform them by getting at the root of their problem: their obsessive pursuit of the bottom line. The idea of a “triple bottom line” — one that takes into account environmental and social impacts as well as profit — can be seen in the efforts by the AFL-CIO and other labor movements to introduce workers’ rights in the WTO and trade agreements. It can be seen in the “living wage” campaign, which has focused on implementing city ordinances that require city contractors to pay their workers a minimum wage that provides adequate support for their families. And it can be seen in shareholder activism, a strategy that has been pursued in recent years by groups like Amnesty International USA to persuade multinational corporations to stop supporting human rights abuses in countries like Indonesia and Nigeria. By putting forward shareholder resolutions that stir up dissension, Amnesty has been able to insert morality into the usual corporate debates, and promote a form of (albeit limited) democracy in otherwise unaccountable institutions.
  • In the anarchist community, activists talk about how their models of decentralized decision-making can help fashion a more inclusive and democratic society. For these activists, the whole purpose of the global justice struggle is to bring radical democracy to the world. “That’s not just the means to the change, but that is the change,” says Solnit. “We can’t change the world through political parties and politicians or reforming corporations. We have to just make a new world, and actually very much not seize power, but exercise power.” These days, Solnit is putting together an anthology of essays (the forthcoming Globalizing Liberation: How to Uproot the System and Build a Better World) that spells out the political vision that he and his fellow activists share — one opposed to any system of government that centralizes power. “Other social movements have had alternatives, but I think it’s significant in that anti-globalization is at its heart an anti-systemic movement,” Solnit says. “In the last decades we’ve been trapped into single-issue movements that talked about alternatives to the war, alternatives to sexism, alternatives to racism, but not alternatives to the entire system.”

    New forms of political participation in other parts of the world have provided inspiration to Solnit and other global justice activists. In Argentina, where four out of ten people now live in poverty, spontaneous neighborhood councils have been convened in middle-class neighborhoods, where residents are upset over unpopular government decrees. In Brazil, the Landless Workers’ Movement (Movimento dos Trabalhadores Rurais Sem Terra, or MST) has organized hundreds of thousands of landless peasants to squat on and take over unproductive land — carrying out their own version of grassroots, extralegal land reform. And since 1989, Porto Alegre, a regional capital city of 1.3 million in southern Brazil, has used a “participatory budget” process that allows thousands of city residents to make decisions about how their tax dollars are spent.

If global justice activists fall almost in lockstep behind the general principles of diversity and democracy, there’s plenty of disagreement over how far to push these things. On one hand, the reformists question whether democracy is always a good thing (couldn’t you consider the genocide of a minority group by a majority group “democracy in action”?). On the other hand, the radicals are concerned about the darker side of their movement’s diversity: co-optation. “To a large degree, single-issue nonprofits, [nongovernmental organizations], and trade unions serve a function for the system of normalizing things, preventing genuine rebellion, keeping people in check, and then providing someone who’s much more manageable,” says Solnit.

Nevertheless, there are signs that the two camps are growing more comfortable with each other’s company. Lisa Hoyos, an organizer for the AFL-CIO, points out that “radicals” like herself could learn from the lobbying strategies of more traditional political campaigns. “When it comes to international trade and the World Bank and all those things, it’s Congress that’s voting on these measures and accords,” says Hoyos, who formerly facilitated the “Our World Is Not for Sale” global justice network. “And I don’t think that, for all the great visibility work we’ve done in protests and so forth, that we’re pressuring them enough.” Meanwhile, reformists are realizing that there are tactical benefits to having a diversity of political viewpoints under one banner. “Those of us who are in the reformist camp are beholden to the abolitionist camp [for] moving our agenda for us,” says Zafra Whitcomb, business and human rights program coordinator at Amnesty International USA. “When a moderate group meets with a governmental or corporate organization, often the organization will say, ‘We’re so glad we can talk to you. We’re so glad you’re not just out there beating us over the head.’”

A new era in organizing

The conventional wisdom is that “successful” social movements need a single, compelling vision, strong, charismatic leadership, and hierarchical, centralized organization. Throughout history, this perspective has won over movements that began as experiments in direct democracy. “By the late 1960s, many new leftists had abandoned efforts to create an egalitarian microcosm of a future society in favor of centralized, often militaristic organizations modeled on those of their Third World revolutionary heroes,” writes sociologist Francesca Polletta in her book Freedom Is an Endless Meeting. “It was among radical feminists and in a counterculture largely disdained by politicos, that experiments in movement democracy continued.” Democracy, in other words, was a luxury of the delusional political fringe.

From the moment it began in the Lacandón Jungle of Mexico, the global justice movement has sought to become an exception to the rule. Seattle became the global rallying cry for a new vision of organizing: one that saw diversity and democracy not as weaknesses, but as strengths; not merely as means, but as ends. By taking this position, activists hoped to avoid the fate of the two progressive experiments whose failures some of them had witnessed in their youth: the U.S. New Left, and international communism. The former had been driven into division by arrogant leadership and an inability to relate across lines of class, gender, and race. The latter had sought to impose yet another hierarchical, oppressive model of organizing society and the economy.

Instead, we might compare the global justice movement to another kind of organizing from another era: the U.S. civil rights movement. It began as a reaction against Jim Crow in the South — in Montgomery, Alabama, against segregated buses, and in Greensboro, North Carolina, against whites-only lunch counters. In later years, however, it grew into a much larger movement, with aims that went beyond tearing down racist laws and institutions. Key leaders, like Martin Luther King Jr., and key activist organizations, like the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee, shifted away from a more or less reactive approach — demonstrating against specific injustices like Jim Crow — and increasingly advanced their own visions of democracy and economic opportunity in America. By the mid-1960s, the SNCC was working among black communities in Mississippi to register voters and build black politica+E94l power; King and other black leaders were calling for jobs and education and “something more” than legal equality for African Americans. As King said in 1968, two months before his death, “What good does it do to sit at the counter when you cannot afford a hamburger?”

Three decades later, another social movement is on the cusp of a similar transition. In their post-MTV, post-Internet version of the Montgomery bus boycott, global justice protesters shut down the city of Seattle and sabotaged the 1999 WTO ministerial. That protest was a defining moment, which unleashed a wave of other demonstrations around the country and across the globe. But like the U.S. civil rights movement did in the late 1960s, the global justice movement has entered a new stage in its organizing: broadening its ranks, diversifying its tactics, and dreaming its own versions of tomorrow.

The question, of course, is whether the movement can rise out of the fringe of left-wing politics — what one activist calls the “anarchist gutter.” Will the movement’s campaign to diversify simply lead to more crippling divisions? Will its effort to further democratize strip it of the very tools it needs to confront its enemies? Last year’s massive rallies against the Iraq War have provided some momentum, and the general drift of public interest is in their favor, activists insist. “The point we’re at now is unique,” says Whitcomb of Amnesty International. “Even though economic globalization has been going on for three centuries, there hasn’t been a true awareness. Even in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, there were activist movements … But now I think it’s more decentralized, filtered out through the population. And it’s focused on the issues of economic justice, equal voice, participation, rights to decent work, decent living conditions, fair wages — equal participation in the benefits of economic development. It is shaping a new paradigm.”

HELP NEEDED: To take part in a survey of global justice activists being conducted by Tom Hayden and Victor Tan Chen, please click here.

Victor Tan Chen is In The Fray's editor in chief and the author of Cut Loose: Jobless and Hopeless in an Unfair Economy. Site: victortanchen.com | Facebook | Twitter: @victortanchen

 

Fear totalitarianism

BEST OF IMAGE 2003 (runner-up)

Dodging rubber bullets at the Miami FTAA ministerial.

Click here to enter the visual essay.

Last month, representatives from thirty-four nations met in Miami to negotiate the Free Trade Area of the Americas (FTAA), a proposal to create a free trade zone that would span the entire Western hemisphere, with the exception of Fidel Castro’s Cuba. As trade ministers met behind closed doors on Thursday, November 20, an estimated 15,000 people — labor union members, environmentalists, human rights activists, small farmers, students, anarchists — marched in downtown Miami to protest the trade pact, which they argued would threaten the livelihoods of farmers and workers and erode protections for the environment. The demonstrators were met by some 2,500 police officers from more than forty local, state, and federal agencies — a security force paid for, in part, with $8.5 million included in the $87 billion Iraq appropriations bill recently passed by Congress. Thursday’s demonstrations ended abruptly later that afternoon, when police officers in riot gear marched into the crowds and started subduing protesters with wooden batons, rubber bullets, and pepper spray. According to police, some individuals in the crowd had started hurling rocks at the police lines; demonstrators at the scene, however, denied there was any provocation. By the end of the next day, 231 people had been arrested, and dozens injured, including a handful of police officers. The images in this visual essay, drawn from the work of five photographers who were in Miami that week, document the actions of both protesters and police.

Victor Tan Chen is In The Fray's editor in chief and the author of Cut Loose: Jobless and Hopeless in an Unfair Economy. Site: victortanchen.com | Facebook | Twitter: @victortanchen

 

‘Assault on the very basis of life’

In an age of unprecedented corporate power, social movements offer the greatest hope for humanity’s survival, says Vandana Shiva.

Runner-up for BEST OF ITF INTERVIEWS (SO FAR)

Vandana Shiva talks to reporters in Cancún during last September’s World Trade Organization ministerial. (Victor Tan Chen)

When tens of thousands filled the streets of Seattle to protest a summit of the World Trade Organization (WTO) in 1999, many news reports focused on the spectacle of the moment — the tear gas in the air, the smashed storefront windows, the clashes between police and black-garbed anarchists. Drowned out were the issues that had sparked the mass demonstrations. On the streets, protesters were denouncing the WTO’s role in overturning a range of local laws (from regulations protecting sea turtles to bans on hormone-laden beef) and its “undemocratic” means of making decisions that affected billions of people. The activists shouted; few heard.

Seattle was the birth of a “new democracy movement,” Indian environmentalist Vandana Shiva wrote at the time. Shiva was present in Seattle, making her case in public against the genetic engineering of crops, the patenting of seeds, and other attempts by corporations to establish “control over every dimension of our lives — our food, our health, our environment, our work, and our future.” She praised the demonstrations in the streets, and argued that they represented history in the making. Citizens around the world, in poor as well as rich nations, would no longer “be bullied and excluded from decisions in which they have a rightful share,” she said.

If Shiva and other critics were largely ignored by the mainstream media in Seattle, they have doggedly persisted in making their case against “corporate-controlled globalization” in the years since. The author of the books Stolen Harvest and Water Wars and the recipient of the Right Livelihood Award (known as the “Alternative Nobel Prize”), Shiva has become one of the most quoted spokespeople of a protest movement that prides itself on its leaderless, democratic structure — and one of its few voices from the “global South,” the so-called “Third World” where the poorest people on earth reside.

Shiva was born in northern Indian city of Dehradun, in the foothills of the Himalayas. Trained as a physicist, she eventually left the academic world for life as an activist, and in the two decades since then has worked primarily on issues of biodiversity, the earth’s variety of plant and animal life. In her native India, the fifty-three-year-old activist is best known for founding the New Delhi-based Research Foundation for Science, Technology, and Ecology and the national movement known as Navdanya, both of which work on behalf of agricultural diversity and farmers’ rights. One of Navdanya’s more recent initiatives is Diverse Women for Diversity, an international campaign on behalf of biodiversity, cultural diversity, and food security.

When trade ministers met in Cancún, Mexico, for another WTO ministerial this September, Shiva and thousands of other protesters were there to greet them. Once again, violence dominated the headlines — this time, the suicide of a South Korean farmer, Kyung-hae Lee, who killed himself at the police barricades in an act of political protest (the agricultural policies of the WTO, Lee had claimed, were “killing” small farmers like himself). InTheFray Editor Victor Tan Chen caught up with Shiva in Cancún for a chat about the current state of the world’s social movements, the recent struggles against corporate power, and the meaning of one man’s ultimate sacrifice.

Q: What changes have you seen in social movements over the last several decades?

A: Well, all the new social movements that have emerged — even in the South, even movements that are terribly local — have been able to sustain themselves and build strength through global solidarity. And that’s partly because beginning with the eighties, the worst problems we face do not get created from within our societies. They get created because of World Bank lending, IMF lending, World Trade Organization rules, global corporate crimes — and to deal with these global risks you need global solidarity. And movements have been extremely ingenious in creating new strategies, new styles of actions, new combinations of intellectual work and research and grassroots actions. My own institutions that I founded — one in 1982 [the Research Foundation for Science, Technology, and Ecology], the other in 1987 [Navdanya] — are both children of globalization, of responding to globalization, and both of them work very much at the local level and at the national level, through advocacy and influencing parliament, and at the international level, through global solidarity. They also combine, I believe, the highest quality intellectual work with the deepest engagement in society. And I think those are totally new trends.

Q: Do you think it’s an energetic time for social movements today in the world?

A: I think it’s the only place where there is energy. At least energy that deserves to be called energy. Because in India, fortunately, we have different terms for destructive energy and creative energy.  We don’t use the same word for two. But in the West, you only have one word. So the energy of Mr. Bush bombing Iraq, is still energy. The energy of a Monsanto wiping out agriculture is still energy. But we have a different word for that. And for us, in my view, social movements are the only place for positive, creative energy.

States are failing in their duties. [They] are either failing because they are prevented from acting, through these very, very dictatorial rules, or they’re volunteering the sacrifice of their power. But their power is not their power in total sovereignty; their power is the … power of the citizens. So when states give up their power, they’re giving up the rights and powers of their citizens, which is an illegitimate step. So we have crippled states or corporate states — the only actor states are corporate states. The other states are crippled states. And social movements [are] the only place where a future is being shaped because the corporations are shaping an annihilation of the future.

Q:  What do you think the biggest challenges are facing activists for social justice today?

A: I think the biggest challenge is the fact that never before has humanity needed to respond to assault on the very basis of life. To patenting of seeds, to privatization of water, to total takeover of agriculture. As movements and political organizations, we’re geared to fighting for better wages, freedom of speech. And now we have to fight for survival. And fighting for survival is the common bottom line for everyone, and yet we are divided by the legacy of a divided world between rich and poor.

The biggest block social movements face is not addressing the issues of survival of the species but slipping into the polarizations, where the biggest corporations use the richness of the North to prevent solidarity and engagement of citizens of the North with citizens of the South.

And you can just notice after Seattle how campaigns and movements of the North are constantly criminalized [as] “rich people,” “white people,” “anti-poor.” And the “pro-poor” are precisely the corporations that are wiping us out. So I think that’s a huge leap we need to make in our political analysis and in our action strategies.

Q: Do you think movements are doing a better job organizing across lines of nationality, race, gender, class?

A: I think we need to do an even better job. And that’s why I formed Diverse Women for Diversity. I believe we do still have divisions on the basis of race and class, and that’s precisely what we need to transcend.

Q: Are women’s issues becoming more prominent, do you think, in the global justice movement?

A: Well, the thing is women’s leadership is prominent. And women are defining all social issues as their issues — food, water, the destruction of livelihoods — and you can see that everywhere, at least at the grass roots, women are shaping the agenda.

Q: What kind of advice would you give to activists today who are struggling for social justice?

A: To have sustainable energy — it’s a long, drawn battle. To stay cheerful, have joy in their struggle. To not be overburdened by the struggle itself. To relish their humanity, and not let political activism dehumanize them. To be engaged passionately, but be detached while engaging passionately.

Q: Do you have any words for people here protesting the WTO?

A: My main words are we all need to pay deep homage to the Korean farmer who gave his life for all of us, and through it wanted to focus that this is about life. And I would just say if we can keep our minds and hearts focused on that sacrifice and move from there. And not be distracted by [this question of] “oh, does market access help the Third World?” And the nonsensical diversions that divide the movement. I think we need to just focus our energies on Mr. Lee and say, “This is what it’s about.” He gave his life to remind us; let us not forget.

STORY INDEX

ORGANIZATIONS >

Diverse Women for Diversity
A global campaign of women on behalf of biodiversity, cultural diversity, and food security.
URL: http://www.diversewomen.org

Navdanya
An Indian movement to conserve agricultural diversity. “Navdanya” means “nine seeds,” a reference to India’s collective source of food security.
URL: http://navdanya.org

Research Foundation for Science, Technology, and Ecology (RFSTE).
Organization that “works on biodiversity conservation and protecting people’s rights from threats to their livelihoods and environment by centralised systems of monoculture in forestry, agriculture and fisheries.” Based in New Delhi, India.
URL: http://www.shiva.net

The Right Livelihood Award
Considered the “Alternative Nobel Prize,” an award established that recognizes “outstanding vision and work on behalf of our planet and its people.” Presented annually since 1980 in Stockholm at a ceremony in the Swedish Parliament.
URL: http://www.rightlivelihood.se/recip/v-shiva.htm

PEOPLE > SHIVA, VANDANA >

“Short Curriculum Vitae of Dr. Vandana Shiva”
Biography of the Indian environmentalist. Published by her organization, the Research Foundation for Science, Technology, and Ecology (RFSTE).
URL: http://www.vshiva.net/vs_cv.htm

TOPICS > GLOBALIZATION >

“Enough IMF/World Bank Policies”
By Scott Harris. Published by AlterNet. April 1, 2000.
URL: http://www.alternet.org/story.html?StoryID=31

“Globalization: A Primer”
By Mark Weisbrot. Published by the Center for Economic and Policy Research. October 1999.
URL: http://www.cepr.net/GlobalPrimer2.htm

“The Historic Significance of Seattle”
By Vandana Shiva. December 10, 1999.
URL: http://lists.essential.org/mai-not/msg00181.html

“Interview with Dr. Vandana Shiva”
Broadcast on NOW with Bill Moyers. September 5, 2003.
URL: http://www.pbs.org/now/transcript/transcript_shiva.html

“The Long Arm of the WTO”
By Jim Hightower. Published by AlterNet. April 26, 2000.
URL: http://www.alternet.org/story.html?StoryID=4866

“Monsanto — World’s Most Unethical and Harmful Investment”
Compiled by Ethical Investing.
URL: http://www.ethicalinvesting.com/monsanto

“World trade barricade”
By Dustin Ross and Victor Tan Chen. Published by InTheFray Magazine. October 27, 2003.
URL: content/view/84/39

Victor Tan Chen is In The Fray's editor in chief and the author of Cut Loose: Jobless and Hopeless in an Unfair Economy. Site: victortanchen.com | Facebook | Twitter: @victortanchen

 

The new ‘crisis’ of democracy (complete transcript)

The world today is witnessing an unprecedented level of popular protest — but watch out, the Empire is striking back. A conversation with Noam Chomsky.

The New York Times Book Review has called him “arguably the most important intellectual alive today,” and the “foremost gadfly of our national conscience.” He is one of the ten most quoted sources in the humanities — just one notch below Freud on a list that includes Marx, Shakespeare, and the Bible. A giant in the field of linguistics, a prolific and uncompromising critic of American foreign policy, a radical activist for social justice — Noam Chomsky has managed to cram several lifetimes of intellectual and political labor in the span of his seventy-four years. He has also stirred several lifetimes’ worth of controversy: His political opponents have denounced him as a ringleader in the “blame America first” crowd, or a “self-hating Jew” who is dangerously critical of the Israeli state. Even one of the Times reviewers who heaped praise on him went on to call his political writings “maddeningly simple-minded” — a quote that Chomsky himself is fond of citing.

InTheFray Editor Victor Tan Chen met up this month with Professor Chomsky at his MIT office for an hour-long conversation on the state of today’s social movements. The focus of the interview was the recent growth in activism around the world, especially coming out of the massive popular protests against the U.S.-led war on Iraq. But in true Chomskian fashion, the discussion ranged widely — from Brazilian landless workers to sixties activism to free-trade economics to, yes, the elitist agenda of The New York Times.

(This is the complete transcript of the interview. For the highlights, including links, click here.)

Q: What do you think the present state of social movements around the globe is right now?

A: Well, it’s hard to think of a time when there has been anything approaching this level of activism, participation, and, in particular, interaction. That’s something quite new. The kinds of interaction that are reflected at the World Social Forum, for example, or at the international demonstrations at Cancún. There had never been anything like that in the past. The popular movements in the West, at least — the labor movement, the left movements from the nineteenth century — were always talking about internationalism. That’s why every union is called an international. And you have that series of [Communist] Internationals. But they were never anything remotely like internationals. Either unions, or the First and Second and Third Internationals were very localized and narrow.

Q: There wasn’t that kind of communication between national lines.

A: There was some but not much interaction. The unions are where they are: The international connections are very limited, even if they call themselves international. In Europe, there’s some integration, so the First International was a mixture of German, French, English. But, well, as you know, it just broke up. I think Marx destroyed it pretty much by moving the center to America and trying to get rid of it because he didn’t like the French influence. The Second International was substantial, but it was destroyed by the First World War. The Third International was just an agency of the Russian government. It meant nothing. The Fourth International were scattered intellectuals, mostly.

Q: So it was very top-bottom, it seems, very much centralized.

A: Well, the First International — which was the more serious one — broke up over the issue of centralization. I mean, Marx just didn’t wanted to relinquish control. And he didn’t like the French anarchists. There was a lot of Franco-German conflict. The Second International was also pretty much centralized. I mean, there were a lot of interesting people, and it was a huge organization, with huge mass parties. But it didn’t last very long; the others, not anything. These were the early attempts, in the early modern period. But then nothing much came of it. And it’s picked up through the growth of — first of all, through decolonization. Which didn’t mean necessarily throwing out foreign troops. Brazil wasn’t technically colonized, but it still had a kind of quasi-colonial relationship to the Western industrial powers. And of course, India was brutally colonized. But as decolonization and independence began to develop, and the Non-Aligned Movement developed, and the South Commission, and others, you started getting — these were reflections of popular activism throughout the South, which reached enormous proportions.

In Brazil, for example, it’s beyond anything in any Western country. In fact, what just happened in Brazil was historically pretty amazing. It’s the first time that popular movements reached this scale. A number of them: the Workers Party, the unions, the Landless Workers Movement — which played the most interesting role in many ways. They reached a sufficient scale so they could naturally take over political power over enormous odds: the centralization of capital and rich-poor gap and so on … What they can do about it is another question. There were efforts in this direction in the past. Forty years ago they did actually elect a mildly populist president — nothing remotely like Lula [Luis Inacio “Lula” da Silva, president of Brazil], and nothing like the populist Workers Party. But then it was just overthrown quickly by a military coup, organized from Washington and celebrated by American liberals as the greatest thing that ever happened.

Q: So there’s these external dangers that social movements face.

A: Well, that’s changed. There’s not going to be any military coup to overthrow Lula. For one thing, because the population no longer would accept it, either there or here. There’s been enough changes in popular consciousness, both in the South and, by now, in the rich countries, in the North. You couldn’t get away with a military coup now the way you could forty years ago when nobody paid attention. But it’s just almost unimaginable now.

The other, negative side is that they don’t need it now. Because the neoliberal mechanisms of the past thirty years have created conditions which undermine — severely undermine — the threat that democracy could actually function. So international financial markets have a stranglehold over Brazil and other Third World countries thanks to these measures. It’s almost unnecessary to think in terms of military coups. In fact, Lula is being compelled to follow policies more reactionary than the preceding government, the Cardoso government. It’s making it a little bit interesting to watch, and unpleasant to watch. Unless they want to pull out of the international financial system — like they create an independent new bloc of countries that just don’t want to accept these rules — unless they do that, as long as they decide to play by the rules, they have to maintain what’s called their “credibility,” with banks and foreign investors and the IMF and so on. And they have to work harder to do that than a reactionary government does, because the investors are always waiting to pounce on them if there’s any minor move towards social reform in health services or wherever. The result is he’s [Lula] got to go beyond the Cardoso government: raise interest rates higher, so on and so forth. So in a sense, they’re even harsher than the more center-right governments. And that’s coming to a crunch right now for the major players.

The point is, these things have developed in the South, in India and South Africa and other places, and there’s an enormous mobilization in the North that’s never existed before. And furthermore, there is solidarity. So at Cancún, where you were, there’s interaction among people. I mean, in Porto Alegre, when I got off the plane, I didn’t go to the World Social Forum, I went to the Via Campesina meeting — the international peasant movement, workers from all over the place. It’s alongside the World Social Forum, and interacts with it, but not the same. And it’s a powerful movement which could get participation by even Northern farmers who are, at a very different level, facing other, similar problems that are crushing them. The huge mass peasant movements in the world, which is probably more than half of the population of the world, is mirrored in the rich countries. Take a look at the food chain: There’s tremendous profits at both ends. The energy corporations, Cargill and those guys, are doing fine. But if you look at the middle, even rich countries’ farmers, the people who actually produce the food, are being crushed. Not in the sense that peasants get crushed … but the same phenomenon happens, and they have similar interests.

Q: What’s the situation for social movements in the United States right now? Is it favorable right now, the conditions for social movements?

A: The conditions are such that they ought to be able to achieve a lot. The United States is a complicated country. It’s very disorganized. There’s little in the way of political parties, the political system is almost unrelated to popular movements. On the other hand, there’s a tremendous amount of energy and activism, just very disorganized.

I travel a lot, and give talks. And one of the main reasons I go to give talks — and the organizers know it, we agree on this — is that, you know, I’ll go somewhere for a fundraiser or something, and one of the things it does, it just brings together people from that town or city or even region who are working along pretty similar lines, or at least parallel lines, and don’t have much to do with each other. But these events kind of bring them together and contribute to some further integration. This is a very disorganized, scattered country. If you just take Boston. Lots and lots of groups. But they barely know about each other. They’re doing their own thing, here, there, and the other place. I mean, the total level of participation is probably quite substantial. On the other hand, the degree of integration is slight, and the degree of involvement varies. And that means there’s not much in the way of long-term thinking or planning or strategy and so on.

Q: Why do you think there is such fragmentation within social movements within the United States?

A: In other industrial countries, these movements have tended to coalesce around the labor movement or social-democratic political parties or some kinds of ongoing institutions that maintain themselves. The United States does not have those institutions. So if I give a talk in some other industrial country, it’ll often be in a union hall. I almost never give a talk in a union hall [here] — occasionally, but it’s not a phenomenon that exists. Or even if it’s in a town hall, it’s set up by the labor council or labor party activists or something like that.

And that has both a positive side and a negative side. The positive side is that the movements here are not under the control of pretty autocratic, bureaucratized institutions. On the other hand it means there’s no center you can keep coming back to, there are no learning experiences. What was done ten years ago is forgotten because the people who did it are now somewhere else and you have to start over again and learn the same techniques. I mean, there are things you have to know: how do you distribute leaflets, how do you get people organized, how do you talk to people. And there’s just a lot of lore that’s involved in continual activism that gets lost because of the lack of continuing institutions.

In the United States, the one continuing institution is the church. The churches, a lot of the churches. So as a result, just because they exist, and they continue, a lot of the organizing and activism is around churches. I mean, just take Boston. Where do the groups have their offices? Usually in one or another church. But they’re there.

Q: [It’s] an institution to base your movement.

A: Well, there’s something there. There’s a church on Garden Street which will give you an office or something … But that’s unusual in the United States. And it’s also a big country, a very insular country, that doesn’t pay attention to the outside. There’s a tremendous amount of mobility as compared to other industrial countries — people don’t live where they grew up, others come from outside the country, and it means there’s a lack of ties.

And also this is an unusually business-run society. Other industrial countries are also largely business-run, but here it’s extraordinary. It shows up through the whole history. The U.S. has a very violent labor history. The major business-run propaganda institutions, the public relations industry, are in the U.S. or, secondarily, Britain, which is also where they had their major origins as part of the effort to control attitudes and beliefs.

And there’s enormous efforts going into trying to undermine popular organizations. And they are very centralized, and they are continuing, and they have an institutional base, and they have learning experiences — they pick up from last time and so on and so forth. So in terms of institutional structures it’s an extremely unequal battle. On the other hand it’s a pretty dissident population. And there’s plenty to be concerned about. So if you look at people’s attitudes, it looks like it ought to be an organizer’s paradise.

Q: In what sense?

A: For example, I remember on the Bicentennial, in 1976, there were lots of polls about people’s attitudes and all sorts of things. And some of them were pretty striking. One Gallup poll or something asked people, gave people slogans basically. The question was, “Is this in the Constitution?” Of course, nobody had a clue what’s in the Constitution — maybe they looked at it in eighth grade but forgot about it. So when you ask people is this in the Constitution, what you’re really asking them is this such an obvious truth that it must be in the Constitution. One of the questions was, “From each according to his ability, to each according to his need.” Fifty percent of the population thought that’s in the Constitution. Because it’s such an obvious truism. And you look at that, and you think, “Well, what are the organizers doing?” [laughs] Nobody, virtually, hears articulate support to this. Well, that’s what people think.

It’s the same on a lot of issues. Take, say, the Vietnam War. I mean, there was a huge amount of activism on the war, and there’s been a lot of studies of people’s attitudes on it. Because of the indoctrination in the academic world, people don’t go there, they don’t pursue the answers to the questions to find out what they mean, so all you know is the answers. The Chicago Council on Foreign Relations, for example, does regular polls on people’s attitudes towards international affairs every four years. And some of the questions are always about the Vietnam War. And there’s an open question, “What do you think of the Vietnam War?” And there’s maybe ten choices. And the one that’s had an overwhelming majority since 1969 is, “Fundamentally wrong and immoral, not a mistake.”

If you did a poll in the Harvard Faculty Club or editorial offices or something, nobody would say that. Everybody says, “It was a mistake. It was right, but it was a mistake. It was wrong because it cost us too much, but it was a mistake, it was a disaster, it got too costly, we got into a quagmire” — and that sort of thing. Well, apparently, that’s not the popular attitude. Now, what do people mean when they say, “Fundamentally wrong and immoral, not a mistake”? Well, in order to find that out, you have to ask the further questions. But those questions don’t come to the minds of investigators — academic investigators.

And in fact, if you look at their interpretation of it … what they say is, well, this must mean that people didn’t like the casualties. Well, maybe. But that’s not the obvious interpretation. “Fundamentally wrong and immoral” might mean something beyond just too many American casualties. But it’s been built up in the doctrinal system to be something called the “Vietnam Syndrome,” meaning you don’t want to take casualties. Actually, the polls that have been done on that show that that’s not true. Recently, the main polling institution in the country — academic one — the Program on International Policy Attitudes at Maryland — has investigated this, and they consistently show that people don’t think that casualties are a cost they’re unwilling to accept if the cause is just.

And it goes across the board. Seventy-five percent of the population before the last election — there was a Harvard project on this, [Thomas E.] Patterson’s project — they found that before the last [presidential] elections, 75 percent of the population regarded it as a farce. That’s before Florida, before the Supreme Court. In fact, if you look at this whole stolen election business, it’s of great concern among intellectuals, but there’s almost no popular resonance. They don’t care.

And I think the reason is — if you look at the Vanishing Voter Project you can see the reasons: Before the election people weren’t taking it seriously, because it’s just rich people and public relations operations and so on and so forth. If you ask people, “Is the economic system fair?”: overwhelmingly, it’s unfair. Ask people about national health insurance: There’s been very consistent support for it, some of the latest figures are about 75 percent. If it’s being discussed, it’s called “politically impossible” — meaning, the insurance companies won’t accept it. It doesn’t matter if the population would. We could go across the board. These are things that people can organize about.

Q: Why aren’t they organizing? If there’s such a degree of grievances about health care, about the minimum wage, about the lack of a U.N. role in foreign policy, why aren’t the people agitating?

A: Take the U.N. role in foreign policy. In April, before the whole thing started becoming a catastrophe, there was still about two-thirds in favor of the U.N. taking over reconstruction and the U.N. taking the lead — not the United States — in international conflicts. Take, say, Cancún. They ask the questions in skewed ways, but what basically it comes down to is that people are largely opposed — pluralities, or majorities — are opposed to the international economic agreements. But these don’t come up in the political system, and they don’t come up in media debates and so on, because the sectors that have power concentrations, including educated sectors, are almost uniform on the other side. So therefore these things just don’t come up.

At the year 2000 election, for example, the big issue that ought to have been right at the core of it, was the Free Trade Area of the Americas, which was just coming along. Nobody even mentioned it. And the reasons are simple: The population is opposed, the elites favor it. So therefore it isn’t part of the political system. It’s not part of the debate. It’s like national health care. If someone mentions it, it’s “politically impossible.” If it turns out that 75 percent of the population supports it, it doesn’t matter, it’s still politically impossible. Well, that’s the way our system works. But it means that there’s a potential for organizing which is quite substantial.

Q: Can you talk a little about your own background in social movements, the ones you’ve been involved with in the past, and what lessons you can draw from that that could apply today?

A: Well, I was very active and political as a child, as a teenager and so on, but then it was mostly Palestine-related. I was all involved in what was then called Zionist movements — they’d now be called anti-Zionist. And then in the sixties I just kind of joined in with the stuff that was going on. The civil rights movement. I was very active in organizing resistance, to try to organize national tax resistance in the sixties — organizing resistance against the [Vietnam] War. Then just hung out from there.

In the eighties, I was very heavily involved in the solidarity movements in regard to Central America. Which were a real breakthrough. They were what people would call conservative in many respects — the church, the Midwest. But it was the first time in the history of Europe or the United States ever, as far as I know, that large numbers of people from the imperial society went to live with the victims. Very courageously. To help them, to offer some protection because there’s a white face around. And a lot of them stayed. By now they’re all over the world. That’s a real breakthrough, and it’s part of the mood that led to the international solidarity that is now manifesting itself in coordination with these big Southern movements which were around building for some time.

Q: Do you see some continuity to the global justice movement?

A: The global justice movements, yeah. And they sort of grew out of this, in a kind of unplanned fashion, they just developed into these further interactions and developments. People think of the global justice movements as originating in Seattle. But that’s very misleading. They were much more powerful in the South. But they were kind of disregarded. When it hit a Northern city, you can’t disregard it any longer. So then, you know, Seattle, Genoa, Prague, Quebec — that’s visible, you can’t say I don’t see that. But if it’s peasants storming the Indian parliament and getting them to vote down the Uruguay Round — it might make a small note on the back page, even if though it’s a much more powerful movement.

Q: Because of the parochialism of Americans, or Northerners in general?

A: People in the rich countries didn’t care. Take the probably millions of people who have been killed in the Congo in the last two years. Nobody knows. Nobody cares. You can say, well, we’re sending troops to Iraq for humanitarian reasons. Whatever you think of that argument, a fraction of those forces in Eastern Congo would have deterred and maybe stopped huge massacres, way beyond anything there [in Iraq]. Of course, they don’t have oil wealth and are too unimportant to control and so on, so it doesn’t come up.

Probably the biggest international issue in the 1980s, the one that dominated the press more than anything else, was Nicaragua. A large part of the country didn’t know which side we were on. Many people thought the U.S. was supporting the government. Because the U.S. supports governments, and the guerrillas are the bad guys. And a lot of people didn’t know where Nicaragua was. An island somewhere maybe in Africa, or something like that.

There’s a lack of interest and concern about the rest of the world. When people here are asked, for example, about national health insurance. What they’re really asked about is, do you want the Canadian system? Because these people know Canada is there. But if you ask people, do you want the French system, they don’t know what you’re talking about. So these are things that have to be overcome if there’s going to real international solidarity. And the social justice movements have done it for a lot of people. They do reach out to plenty of people now who know a lot about the world. For example, by now there are plenty of people who are getting their information about ongoing events in the world through the Internet. I don’t know what the numbers are, but it’s not insubstantial. Whereas if you went back ten years, the number of people who even knew that the BBC or a foreign newspaper existed was extremely small.

Q: What kind of contribution do you think social movements can give to this distressing picture globally? What can social movements do to change the situation?

A: The bounds are endless. I mean, pick what you like. People are in favor of democratic control, they don’t want to work in corporate tyrannies, they don’t like aggression and massacre, they’d like to have social services.

Just run across the board. Every one of those things is a possibility for organizing. And nothing’s graven in stone. These are very fragile systems of control and domination. And the people in them know that — they’re always deeply concerned about any manifestation of popular activism, and react very powerfully to try to crush it. And there’s now pretty good scholarship on this, for the period after the Second World War … One of the results of the anti-fascist war was a growth of strong, kind of radical, democratic sentiment — including in the United States. You were hearing calls for worker takeover of industry, and things that went pretty far-reaching. And it struck a real panic in elite centers. And they organized huge campaigns to try to crush it. I mean, I thought I knew something about it until some of the scholarly work started to come out, and it’s shocking to see the extent and coordination and the concentration on trying to overcome what they called, “the hazard facing industrialists in the rising political power of the masses.”

And through the fifties it kind of calmed things down. Then the sixties came along and everything just blew up. And it had the same reaction. We’re right in the middle of that right now. There’s tremendous fear of a “crisis of democracy” — too much democratization. The right-wing think tanks got organized to try to shift the political spectrum. The spectrum of discussion and debate changed. The educational system changed.

In fact, a lot of the neoliberal programs which come from the early seventies — you can debate what their economic impact is. It’s pretty negative, in my opinion. But it’s debatable at least. However, what’s not debatable is their effect in undermining democracy. Almost every element of them is designed to reduce the arena of popular participation and decision-making. And that runs from free financial flows — as [economist John Maynard] Keynes knew all along — to privatization. So, reducing the arena of popular choice. And you can see it dramatically in places like Brazil. You can see it here, too. The fact that people may care about Social Security and the environment and health care and so on, is just gradually squeezed out of the public arena as much as possible.

Q: And social movements can provide some antidote to that?

A: Well, you can see the fear there is among highly concentrated — and very class conscious — business and elite interests, managerial interests. That’s in business, politics, education, and media. There’s a lot of interaction. There’s high class consciousness, high degree of commitment to preventing another “crisis of democracy” from developing. And the social movements, the only answer they have to that is to have the population on their side.

And the same is true of elections. Take, say, Brazil, which is democratic in a sense that we can barely aspire to at this point. I mean, the concentration of capital that dominates the electoral system is enormous. How are they able to counter it? Well, just by having mass popular movements of pretty poor people who combine and balance, counterbalance, capital concentrations.

We don’t have that here. So here the elections are just bought. If a candidate happens to represent the interests and concerns of maybe even a large majority of the population, he can’t even enter the political system. Because they’re not organized enough to counter the concentration of capital, media, propaganda, and other mechanisms. Well, you know, that all has to be developed.

Q: Do you think that people will, if given a chance, actually organize to change some of these things? Or do people really do crave submission, like [Russian novelist Fyodor] Dostoevsky’s Grand Inquisitor says?

A: You know, Grand Inquisitor is kind of a caricature. I think more to the point is to say what Josh Cohen and Joel Rogers wrote about twenty years ago. It’s not so much people crave submission. It’s just that the individual costs of opposition are reasonably high, and there’s a free-rider effect. Others can profit from the gains if somebody sacrifices themselves. And that makes it a hard choice for people to make that decision. Say you want to become a union organizer. You may have a rotten time of it, but the working people who you succeed in organizing may be better off at the end. But that kind of mechanism tends to dampen participation for an individual.

An individual is making a real choice that may be complicated and — by some measures — difficult. But if you measure the nature of your life by the standard criteria that are imposed on you by the doctrinal system — meaning make a lot of money, live in a nice house, don’t have people yell at you, and get a good job — if those are the criteria of what makes a decent life, then you pay a cost if you decide to become involved in a global justice movement or something else. On the other hand, there’s no reason why we should accept those values. The people who do it, they just have a different concept of what’s a decent life. But it’s drilled into you from childhood. It has a certain logic to it. And it’s easy to submit to it. And those mechanisms, much more than Grand Inquisitor-style subordination, I think are very real.

So I think Cohen and Rogers make a very convincing statement of that. They don’t think, and I don’t think, it necessarily immobilizes people. But it does reveal some of the impediments to participation as long as you subordinate yourself to the values that are imposed on you by massive propaganda systems. And they really are massive. I mean, if you look at the impact of television and commercialization and so on and so forth, it’s just enormous. It has an overwhelming effect, particularly on young people.

Go to part two

Victor Tan Chen is In The Fray's editor in chief and the author of Cut Loose: Jobless and Hopeless in an Unfair Economy. Site: victortanchen.com | Facebook | Twitter: @victortanchen

 

The new ‘crisis’ of democracy (complete transcript, part two)

The world today is witnessing an unprecedented level of popular protest — but watch out, the Empire is striking back. A conversation with Noam Chomsky.

Go to part one

Q: And that could have led to some of the misconceptions, for instance, about the Iraq War — people believing that the weapons of mass destruction had already been found.

A: Well, there, it’s pretty dramatic. There are cases, and that’s one of them, where you can see the effects of the propaganda showing almost immediately. So like in September 2002, when the propaganda began — the war drums began to beat — within a month, they had a majority of the population believing that Iraq is an imminent threat to the United States. The commitment — belief — that the weapons of mass destruction and connections to 9/11 and so on were there are so high that Bush can just say it, and there’s no reaction.

Like this morning, I was listening to the radio on the way in. The reaction to the Kay Report, was, “Okay, this proves our point.” And he can say it without real fear of contradiction, even though it’s so outlandish. On a radio address a week or two ago, the president’s Saturday radio address, the theme was that the war was justified because we removed a tyrant who was developing weapons of mass destruction, and plotting with international terrorists. Every one of those claims has been totally exploded. The only known connection to terrorism is that the war increased it, exactly as every intelligence agency predicted it was going to do. But the president can say it without fear of contradiction. That’s real propaganda. And it’s very striking because the U.S. is alone in the world on this. There’s no other country in the world where the majority of the population thought that Iraq was a threat to them.

Q: On February 15, you had millions of people around the world, and hundreds of thousands in the United States, protesting the war in Iraq. And yet some people came out of that saying, “Well, I protested, and nothing changed. The foreign policy didn’t change.”

A: You see, that goes back to the earlier discussion, where we were talking about before about institutional permanence and continuity. I mean, in the United States, where there is very little continuity of social movements, and little permanence, and no institutional base, the attitudes that people have are, “We’ll try, we’ll put out a lot of effort for the next couple months, and if it didn’t work, that shows everything’s impossible.” You know, that’s not the way any social movement’s ever worked. I mean, abolitionism, women’s rights, labor rights, anything you take — you have to expect to keep at it day after day. You have partial successes, failures — you pick up and go on. You figure [out] what did you learn last time, how you’re going to do it better next time.

But the idea that you’re going to have some kind of instant gratification, or else it was worthless, is a very typically American idea. And it’s deep in the history, it’s in the nature of the way the country works. There’s a ton of propaganda about it. You’re supposed to look for instant gratification. And if it didn’t work, well, it’s useless. Quit. I remember, for example, at the time of the Columbia strike in 1968, the students were very excited. I had discussions with them, trying to dampen down the enthusiasm. Same with France in ‘68. I, other people, were trying to dampen the enthusiasm. Because the young people involved were very dedicated, very brave, and they really believed that if they sat in for a couple of weeks, or did their thing on the streets of Paris, the whole system was going to collapse. That’s not going to happen, you know? You may make a dent. But you’re not going to achieve long-term institutional changes by sitting in a Columbia president’s office.

And when people failed to achieve the long-term goals, they regarded it as a failure. And right at that point, the massive popular movements here — the young ones — a lot of them went off into very self-destructive directions. Here, the Maoist groups, PL, the Weathermen. “We’ve shown that reform doesn’t work.” You haven’t shown anything. You’ve shown that one demonstration didn’t work — but when did it ever?

And the same is true in February. These were unprecedented protests. Of course they’re not going to stop power systems, and anyone who participated should have understood that. But they might be a barrier to the next step, if you persist with them. But you have to have a realistic understanding of where power lies, how it can adapt to large-scale protests, and where they must go if they want to really change things. This should have been used for ongoing organizing efforts. To say, yeah sure, we didn’t stop the war, we didn’t really expect to, but we want to make it harder for those guys to run the next war. And we want to make sure that we’re going to work to change the system of power which even allows them to make such decisions.

Q: Do you think that movements today are getting better at building bridges across lines of race, class, gender, religion, other lines of identity?

A: There are some that are pretty successful at it. How much that generalizes is really hard to say. Because it’s also quite easy for systems of power and domination to separate people on these issues. Take the Immigrant [Workers Freedom] Ride. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out how to get immigrants and workers to be on opposite sides. Same on international trade issues. I mean, there are real issues involved. If jobs are lost here, they’re going somewhere else. Well, how do you deal with that? The people and peasants in China have to eat too, so you can’t just disregard that question.

It was interesting in NAFTA — NAFTA was kind of narrow enough so that you could actually face the questions concretely. And it was quite interesting to see the debate about NAFTA, to go through it. It’s virtually unknown that the labor movement had a position on that. That was suppressed. I don’t know if you know the background of that, but it’s pretty interesting. You know, there is a Labor Advisory Council, which is the labor union groups, basically. And according to the congressional trade laws, they’re supposed to be consulted on any trade-related issue. But they weren’t even advised that NAFTA was being discussed until about a day before the congressional vote. I think they were given like twenty-four-hours notice.

Well, they did meet, nevertheless, and put together a pretty interesting proposal for a North American Free Trade Agreement — but not this one. It had other devices in it. They pointed out that this one was going to be an investor rights agreement, it’s going to harm working people — but it could be done differently, with compensatory funding, a partially European union model where they brought in Spain and Portugal and Greece, in such a way that it wouldn’t undermine Northern workers’ rights. A lot of ideas spelled out. Well, it was distributed. Never reported. The only mention of it I’ve ever seen is in stuff I wrote in Z Magazine at the time.

Their proposal happened to be almost the same as one done by the OTA, the Office of Technology Assessment, which has since been disbanded, but at that time was the congressional research organization. They did a detailed analysis of NAFTA, which reached pretty much the same conclusions: Namely, NAFTA could be good here, but not this one, because this one was aimed at low-wage, low-growth, high-profit outcomes. And it could be different, it could be done in a way that would lead to higher growth, higher wages, maybe lower profits, and that’s the way it ought to be done. Well, these are not radicals; this is OTA. Their report was never — I don’t think it was ever mentioned.

So here you have the congressional research office, the mass labor movement, giving alternative proposals for NAFTA. If you look at popular opinion, it was mostly opposed to the official version of NAFTA, either in majorities or pluralities depending on how you asked the question. Nothing in the press. I mean, the labor movement was bitterly condemned in the press by the so-called left commentators, like Anthony Lewis. But they were condemned for things they didn’t say. They were condemned for crude nationalism, and all kind of denunciations. No mention of what they actually proposed. And it died. To this day, nobody knows that any of this happened. Well, you know, if there were activist popular movements, they could have broken through on that. And you could have had a very different kind of NAFTA, which maybe would have benefited people instead of harming them.

The same thing happened at the Quebec meetings, at the summit in April 2001, where the top issue was the FTAA, which was going be modeled on NAFTA, and the declarations of the trade ministers and the headlines in the press hailed the great successes of NAFTA. The summit, first of all, never came up in the presidential campaign or election — which was interesting enough, because the issues in it are of major importance to people. They are high priority issues in polls. It never came up. Along comes the Quebec summit. You couldn’t suppress it, because there were massive protests, people breaking down the barricades, and you got to have commentary on them, and there was press commentary. But the commentary was almost entirely, “The model for the FTAA is NAFTA, which was a great success, and now we have to bring it to the hemisphere. And these crazy protesters are trying to undermine the poor, and so on and so forth.”

Well, you know, there were two major studies of NAFTA that were timed for release at the summit. They were on every editor’s desk in the country. One was Human Rights Watch, which is hard to ignore. The other is the Economic Policy Institute, which they all know … The Human Rights Watch report was on the effect of NAFTA on labor rights in the three countries. And it found negative in all three countries: It [NAFTA] harmed labor rights. The EPI report was an interesting and detailed study by specialists on the three countries about the effects of NAFTA on working people. And the conclusions were it was harmful in all three countries, and very harmful in Mexico — and not just on working people, but on businessmen and everyone else.

You know, here’s major studies by well-known organizations, timed for release at the summit, where the issue was the great success of NAFTA and can we extend it to the hemisphere. I had a friend do a database search afterwards. There was one mention of it in a column in a small newspaper in Madison, Wisconsin. That’s a level of discipline — and nobody is giving them orders, nobody is saying don’t report it. It’s just the level of internalized discipline is so enormous, that you don’t mention what was obviously highly topical, very important, but the wrong conclusion. It was redoing the NAFTA story.

Q: So bringing people on the streets can actually insert those issues onto the radar screen?

A: It didn’t. The only thing it did was allow the picture to be created of crazed protesters and odd Hippies and people with funny hats who were trying to harm the poor, because they’re trying to prevent the benefits of NAFTA. But a different kind of organizing could have forced this onto the agenda. And sometimes it works. Like on the Multilateral Agreement on Investments, it did, in fact, work.

Q: What kind of organizing would say would be more effective?

A: It’s got to be something that’s not just directed to a demonstration in Quebec, and then when you fail, you say, “Okay, we gave up.” It has to be day-to-day, ongoing organization. Delegations going to the Boston Globe editorial office and saying we want you to report the result of these reports, and if you don’t, we’re going to leaflet the whole city and say you’re a bunch of this, that, and the other thing. You know, that kind of pressure could work, and could break through. Alternative journalists could have done it. Very few did. Very few even knew about it. Again, you could read it in Z Magazine or probably IndyMedia and stuff like that. But it doesn’t reach people because we don’t have the regular, continuing organizations.

If you go back to an older period — take, say, the period when the Communist Party was alive. And there’s lots and lots of things wrong with the Communist Party, Stalinism and everything else. But it was a very important organization, because it existed, and it was continuing. And you had the same guys coming around to grind the mimeograph machines week after week, even if you lost the last battle. And I remember from my own childhood — my family was mostly unemployed Jewish working class. And they were mostly in and around the Communist Party. They didn’t give a damn about the Stalinist purge or anything else — if they had to nod at the right point, they’d nod at the right point. But they cared about those issues that were being struggled about here. So my aunts were seamstresses working in what amounted to sweatshops, but they got a couple of weeks in the summer at the union summer camp, and they got some protection at work, and some health care. And they had workers’ education. This was elite culture, incidentally. It would be normal to listen to the Budapest String Quartet, or go to performances of Shakespeare plays. And a lot of this was around the periphery of the Communist Party.

The fact that they had terrible attitudes toward Russia and hopeless misunderstanding of what was going on there — some of them at least, not others — was wrong, but irrelevant to most of the participants. And in the civil rights movement, it was a major phenomenon, in the revival of the labor movements in the thirties and so on. There were continuing resources. It wasn’t the whole story — there were lots of other things going on, too. But it was one part of it. You don’t want to reconstitute the old Stalinist Party, obviously. But you want to know what was right about it, as well as what was wrong about it. And what was right about it was things like this.

Q: So there’s a need for organization that the movements of today are lacking, but there’s also a need for democracy that the movements of old were lacking in some ways.

A: You’re looking at completely top-down hierarchies, arranged orders from the Kremlin, and so on. But at the sort of grassroots level, it might have been fairly democratic and participatory. You have to look closely to know. These are hard things to develop. They do require instilling the understanding that if you go to a demonstration and you didn’t win, it doesn’t mean everything’s hopeless, and now we join the Spartacist League or something.

Q: What role does democracy play in social movements today?

A: Unless they are really participatory, they’re not going to have staying power, and shouldn’t. And these are not easy things to develop. Anybody who’s been in any popular movement, whether it’s a group of twenty people or something larger, knows that there are internal tendencies that lead to hierarchy. People’s boredom level varies. There are some who are going to stick it out for hour after hour in meetings, and others who say, “I can’t take this anymore,” and who will end up with the former types being the decision-makers. And it goes from interpersonal things like that, to just the easy tendency to delegate authority and go do something else and let them run it.

Q: And that doesn’t work either, to let people run things.

A: No, then it’s just going to become hierarchical and bureaucratized and dominated, and you’ll end up being a servant again. And that’s true in any kind of organization. It has to be struggled with all the time. I mean, it has to be internalized, it’s part of the understanding of participation in a movement, that this is what it’s going to take.

Q: It has to be this consciousness among people, to make them creative, active citizens in a way, then?

A: It has to be a consciousness, yes. I mean, just as a massive propaganda system, that everyone’s subjected to from infancy, is trying to drive them to become what are called “rational wealth maximizers” — maximize your own wealth, and don’t give a damn about anybody else — there’s huge pressures to turn people into that, and there have to be equally huge pressures, or bigger ones, to bring out other aspects of human concerns and capacities. But it takes work.

Q: The New York Times is talking about the emergence of the “other superpower” to contest American power.

A: They were worried about it. Just like they were worried about the crisis of democracy. That one sentence in The New York Times represented real fear that the world may be getting out of control. And it shows up in other respects, too. Take this whole Old Europe, New Europe business. What was that all about? And in part, it was just the expression of the absolute, passionate hatred of democracy among American elites, which is really remarkable. I mean, the fact that Old Europe is denounced because the governments took the same position as the majority of the population, and New Europe is praised because the governments overrode an even bigger majority of the population — I mean, what that tells you is amazing, as is the fact that there’s no comment on it, that it’s just taken for granted.

But there’s much deeper issues than that. Old Europe is France and Germany. That’s the industrial and commercial and financial heartland of Europe. And the concern over that, reflects an old concern — going back to the Second World War — that Europe was going to strike an independent course. And if it does it’ll be led by its heartland, France and Germany. So when they get out of line, and if they don’t follow orders from Crawford, Texas, it’s really dangerous. Because they might take Europe along with them into an independent course in world affairs. A lot of the concern about China and Japan is the same. Northeast Asia is the most dynamic economic region in the world. Its GDP is much bigger than that of the United States. It’s potentially integrated. It could go in an independent direction.

So it’s not just the second superpower — you know, popular opinion. It’s also the fact that the world has conflicting centers of power. The U.S. happens to dominate militarily, but not in other dimensions. And this is a longstanding concern. Mostly with Europe, throughout the second half of the last century, but you will remember the concerns about Japan in the 1980s — “Japan is No. 1, what’s going to happen to us?” and so on and so forth. The idea of losing control is very frightening, whether it’s control of domestic population, or control of the world system and so on.

And international policies are very heavily geared toward this. Say, taking control of Iraqi oil, or making sure that Caspian Sea pipelines go to the West. A lot of this is based on the concern that Northeast Asia might seek energy independence. Which would mean the loss of a very powerful lever of control. On the other hand, if the U.S. has control over the levers of energy, and makes sure they basically decide what happens to it — that’s a way of blocking more independent development in economic and political and social centers that are on par with, or even greater than, the United States. So all this is being thought about all the time.

Q: When some Americans see the protests around the world against, for instance, the Iraq War, they see that as anti-Americanism.

A: That’s the way it was described.

Q: Do you think that’s a valid concern?

A: The very notion is interesting. The very fact that that notion exists is interesting. Concepts like anti-Americanism only exist in totalitarian states. Suppose people in Italy protest against Berlusconi. Is that called anti-Italianism? In Russia, it was called anti-Sovietism. In Brazil, under the generals, if you protested you were anti-Brazilian. But the only way that concept can exist is if you identify the leadership with the society, the culture, the people, their aspirations, and so on. If you do that, if you accept that deeply totalitarian doctrine, you can have notions like anti-Sovietism, anti-Brazilianism, anti-Americanism, and so on.

So the very existence of the concept reflects a deeply totalitarian streak in American elite thought. I mean, you’d laugh about it if you had a book in Italy called Anti-Italianism, referring to people who protest Berlusconi’s policies. People would just break up in laughter. When you have a book in the United States called Anti-Americanism, by Paul Hollander, referring to people who criticize U.S. policies or something, people don’t laugh, it gets a favorable review in The New York Times.

So you’re right about the concept, but you should think about what it means. The concept reflects the deep-seated conception that you must subordinate yourself to the leadership: If you’re critical of the leadership, even if you think this is the greatest country in the world, you’re anti-American.

Q: What do you think the future of social movements will be, and are you optimistic or pessimistic?

A: I think the tendencies over the last thirty or forty years are pretty hopeful. But it’s really a question of trajectory. I mean, there are very competing trajectories in the world. There’s one towards centralization and militarization and domination. And disaster, because it is facing disaster. There’s another towards increasing concern over human rights, over issues of peace, over — you know, “Is this going to be an environment for our grandchildren to live in?” — and so on. And the question is which of these trajectories dominates.

Victor Tan Chen is In The Fray's editor in chief and the author of Cut Loose: Jobless and Hopeless in an Unfair Economy. Site: victortanchen.com | Facebook | Twitter: @victortanchen

 

The new ‘crisis’ of democracy

BEST OF INTERACT (runner-up). The world today is witnessing an unprecedented level of popular protest — but watch out, the Empire is striking back. A conversation with Noam Chomsky.

The New York Times Book Review has called him “arguably the most important intellectual alive today,” and the “foremost gadfly of our national conscience.” He is one of the ten most quoted sources in the humanities — just one notch below Freud on a list that includes Marx, Shakespeare, and the Bible. A giant in the field of linguistics, a prolific and uncompromising critic of American foreign policy, a radical activist for social justice — Noam Chomsky has managed to cram several lifetimes of intellectual and political labor in the span of his seventy-four years. He has also stirred several lifetimes’ worth of controversy: His political opponents have denounced him as a ringleader in the “blame America first” crowd, or a “self-hating Jew” who is dangerously critical of the Israeli state. Even one of the Times reviewers who heaped praise on him went on to call his political writings “maddeningly simple-minded” — a quote that Chomsky himself is fond of citing.

InTheFray Editor Victor Tan Chen met up this month with Professor Chomsky at his MIT office for an hour-long conversation on the state of today’s social movements. The focus of the interview was the recent growth in activism around the world, especially coming out of the massive popular protests against the U.S.-led war on Iraq. But in true Chomskian fashion, the discussion ranged widely — from Brazilian landless workers to sixties activism to free-trade economics to, yes, the elitist agenda of The New York Times.

(The text below includes highlights from the interview, as well as links and the Story Index. For the complete transcript, click here.)

Lost in ‘paradise’

Q: What do you think the present state of social movements around the globe is right now?

A: Well, it’s hard to think of a time when there has been anything approaching this level of activism, participation, and, in particular, interaction. That’s something quite new. The kinds of interaction that are reflected at the World Social Forum, for example, or at the international demonstrations at Cancún [against the World Trade Organization]. There had never been anything like that in the past. The popular movements in the West, at least, were always talking about internationalism. That’s why every union is called an international. And you have that series of [Communist] Internationals. But they were never anything remotely like internationals. Either unions or the Internationals were very localized and narrow. [Click here for more on the Communist Internationals.]

In Brazil, for example, it’s beyond anything in any Western country. In fact, what just happened in Brazil was historically pretty amazing. It’s the first time that popular movements reached this scale. A number of them: the Workers Party, the unions, the Landless Workers Movement — which played the most interesting role in many ways. They reached a sufficient scale so they could naturally take over political power over enormous odds: the centralization of capital and rich-poor gap and so on.

What they can do about it is another question. There were efforts in this direction in the past. Forty years ago they did actually elect a mildly populist president — nothing remotely like Lula [Luis Inacio “Lula” da Silva, president of Brazil], and nothing like the populist Workers Party. But then it was just overthrown quickly by a military coup, organized from Washington and celebrated by American liberals as the greatest thing that ever happened.

Q: So there’s these external dangers that social movements face.

A: Well, that’s changed. There’s not going to be any military coup to overthrow Lula. For one thing, because the population no longer would accept it, either there or here. There’s been enough changes in popular consciousness, both in the South and, by now, in the rich countries, in the North.

The other, negative side is that they don’t need it now. Because the neoliberal mechanisms of the past thirty years have created conditions which undermine — severely undermine — the threat that democracy could actually function. So international financial markets have a stranglehold over Brazil and other Third World countries thanks to these measures. It’s almost unnecessary to think in terms of military coups. In fact, Lula is being compelled to follow policies more reactionary than the preceding government, the Cardoso government. [Click here for more on how foreign investors constrain the actions of developing countries like Brazil.]

The point is, these things have developed in the South, in India and South Africa and other places, and there’s an enormous mobilization in the North that’s never existed before. And furthermore, there is solidarity. I went to the Via Campesina meeting [in Porto Alegre this year] — the international peasant movement, workers from all over the place. It’s alongside the World Social Forum, and interacts with it, but not the same. And it’s a powerful movement which could get participation by even Northern farmers who are, at a very different level, facing other, similar problems that are crushing them.

Q: What’s the situation for social movements in the United States right now?

A: The conditions are such that they ought to be able to achieve a lot. The United States is a complicated country. There’s little in the way of political parties, the political system is almost unrelated to popular movements. On the other hand, there’s a tremendous amount of energy and activism, just very disorganized. Just take Boston. Lots and lots of groups. But they barely know about each other. They’re doing their own thing, here, there, and the other place. And that means there’s not much in the way of long-term thinking or planning or strategy and so on.

Q: Why do you think there is such fragmentation within social movements within the United States?

A: In other industrial countries, these movements have tended to coalesce around the labor movement or social-democratic political parties or some kinds of ongoing institutions that maintain themselves. The United States does not have those institutions. And that has both a positive side and a negative side. The positive side is that the movements here are not under the control of pretty autocratic, bureaucratized institutions. On the other hand it means there’s no center you can keep coming back to, there are no learning experiences. What was done ten years ago is forgotten because the people who did it are now somewhere else and you have to start over again and learn the same techniques. [Click here for discussion of the role of U.S. churches in promoting activism.]

It’s also a big country, a very insular country, that doesn’t pay attention to the outside. There’s a tremendous amount of mobility as compared to other industrial countries — people don’t live where they grew up, others come from outside the country, and it means there’s a lack of ties.

And also this is an unusually business-run society. The major business-run propaganda institutions, the public relations industry, are in the U.S. or, secondarily, Britain, which is also where they had their major origins as part of the effort to control attitudes and beliefs. And there’s enormous efforts going into trying to undermine popular organizations. On the other hand it’s a pretty dissident population. And there’s plenty to be concerned about. So if you look at people’s attitudes, it looks like it ought to be an organizer’s paradise.

Q: In what sense?

A: For example, I remember on the Bicentennial, in 1976, there were lots of polls about people’s attitudes. One Gallup poll gave people slogans. The question was, “Is this in the Constitution?” Of course, nobody had a clue what’s in the Constitution — maybe they looked at it in eighth grade but forgot about it. So when you ask people is this in the Constitution, what you’re really asking them is this such an obvious truth that it must be in the Constitution. One of the questions was, “From each according to his ability, to each according to his need.” Fifty percent of the population thought that’s in the Constitution. Because it’s such an obvious truism. And you look at that, and you think, “Well, what are the organizers doing?” [laughs]

It’s the same on a lot of issues. Take, say, the Vietnam War. There was a huge amount of activism on the war, and there’s been a lot of studies of people’s attitudes on it. Because of the indoctrination in the academic world, people don’t go there, they don’t pursue the answers to the questions to find out what they mean. [Click here for more on public attitudes toward the Vietnam War.]

And it goes across the board. [Harvard’s Vanishing Voter Project] found that before the last [presidential] elections, 75 percent of the population regarded it as a farce. That’s before Florida, before the Supreme Court. In fact, if you look at this whole stolen election business, it’s of great concern among intellectuals, but there’s almost no popular resonance. They don’t care.

And I think the reason is — if you look at the Vanishing Voter Project you can see the reasons: Before the election people weren’t taking it seriously, because it’s just rich people and public relations operations and so on and so forth. If you ask people, “Is the economic system fair?”: overwhelmingly, it’s unfair. Ask people about national health insurance: There’s been very consistent support for it, some of the latest figures are about 75 percent. If it’s being discussed, it’s called “politically impossible” — meaning, the insurance companies won’t accept it. It doesn’t matter if the population would. We could go across the board. These are things that people can organize about. [Click here for more on how important issues are kept out of the public arena.]

Democracy as a weapon

Q: Can you talk a little about your own background in social movements, the ones you’ve been involved with in the past, and what lessons you can draw from that that could apply today?

A: Well, I was very active and political as a child, as a teenager and so on, but then it was mostly Palestine-related. I was all involved in what was then called Zionist movements — they’d now be called anti-Zionist. And then in the sixties I just kind of joined in with the stuff that was going on. The civil rights movement. I was very active in organizing resistance, to try to organize national tax resistance in the sixties — organizing resistance against the [Vietnam] War. Then just hung out from there.

In the eighties, I was very heavily involved in the solidarity movements in regard to Central America. Which were a real breakthrough. They were what people would call conservative in many respects — the church, the Midwest. But it was the first time in the history of Europe or the United States ever, as far as I know, that large numbers of people from the imperial society went to live with the victims.

Q: Do you see some continuity to the global justice movement?

A: The global justice movements, yeah. And they sort of grew out of this, in a kind of unplanned fashion, they just developed into these further interactions and developments. People think of the global justice movements as originating in Seattle. But that’s very misleading. They were much more powerful in the South. But they were kind of disregarded.

People in the rich countries didn’t care. Take the probably millions of people who have been killed in the Congo in the last two years. Nobody knows. Nobody cares. You can say, well, we’re sending troops to Iraq for humanitarian reasons. Whatever you think of that argument, a fraction of those forces in Eastern Congo would have deterred and maybe stopped huge massacres, way beyond anything there [in Iraq]. Of course, they don’t have oil wealth and are too unimportant to control and so on, so it doesn’t come up. [Click here for discussion of U.S. intervention in Nicaragua.]

There’s a lack of interest and concern about the rest of the world. These are things that have to be overcome if there’s going to real international solidarity. And the social justice movements have done it for a lot of people. They do reach out to plenty of people now who know a lot about the world. For example, by now there are plenty of people who are getting their information about ongoing events in the world through the Internet.

Q: What can social movements do to change the situation?

A: The bounds are endless. I mean, pick what you like. People are in favor of democratic control, they don’t want to work in corporate tyrannies, they don’t like aggression and massacre, they’d like to have social services.

Just run across the board. Every one of those things is a possibility for organizing. And nothing’s graven in stone. These are very fragile systems of control and domination. And the people in them know that — they’re always deeply concerned about any manifestation of popular activism, and react very powerfully to try to crush it. [Click here for discussion of the backlash against popular uprisings since World War II.]

We’re right in the middle of that right now. There’s tremendous fear of a “crisis of democracy” — too much democratization. The right-wing think tanks got organized to try to shift the political spectrum. The spectrum of discussion and debate changed. The educational system changed.

In fact, a lot of the neoliberal programs which come from the early seventies — you can debate what their economic impact is. What’s not debatable is their effect in undermining democracy. Almost every element of them is designed to reduce the arena of popular participation and decision-making. And that runs from free financial flows to privatization. So, reducing the arena of popular choice. The fact that people may care about Social Security and the environment and health care and so on, is just gradually squeezed out of the public arena as much as possible.

Q: And social movements can provide some antidote to that?

A: Well, you can see the fear there is among highly concentrated business and elite interests. There’s high class consciousness, high degree of commitment to preventing another “crisis of democracy” from developing. And the social movements, the only answer they have to that is to have the population on their side.

And the same is true of elections. The concentration of capital that dominates the electoral system [in Brazil] is enormous. How are they able to counter it? Well, just by having mass popular movements of pretty poor people who combine and balance, counterbalance, capital concentrations. We don’t have that here. So here the elections are just bought. If a candidate happens to represent the interests and concerns of maybe even a large majority of the population, he can’t even enter the political system.

Q: Do you think that people will, if given a chance, actually organize to change some of these things?

A: It’s not so much people crave submission. It’s just that the individual costs of opposition are reasonably high, and there’s a free-rider effect. Others can profit from the gains if somebody sacrifices themselves. And that makes it a hard choice for people to make that decision. If you measure the nature of your life by the standard criteria that are imposed on you by the doctrinal system — meaning make a lot of money, live in a nice house, don’t have people yell at you, and get a good job — if those are the criteria of what makes a decent life, then you pay a cost if you decide to become involved in a global justice movement or something else.

[Joshua] Cohen and [Joel] Rogers make a very convincing statement of that. They don’t think, and I don’t think, it necessarily immobilizes people. But it does reveal some of the impediments to participation as long as you subordinate yourself to the values that are imposed on you by massive propaganda systems. And they really are massive. I mean, if you look at the impact of television and commercialization and so on and so forth, it’s just enormous. It has an overwhelming effect, particularly on young people.

Q: And that could have led to some of the misconceptions, for instance, about the Iraq War — people believing that the weapons of mass destruction had already been found.

A: Well, there, it’s pretty dramatic. There are cases, and that’s one of them, where you can see the effects of the propaganda showing almost immediately. So like in September 2002, when the propaganda began — the war drums began to beat — within a month, they had a majority of the population believing that Iraq is an imminent threat to the United States.

Like this morning, I was listening to the radio on the way in. The [president’s] reaction to the Kay Report, was, “Okay, this proves our point.” And he can say it without real fear of contradiction, even though it’s so outlandish. On a radio address a week or two ago, the president’s Saturday radio address, the theme was that the war was justified because we removed a tyrant who was developing weapons of mass destruction, and plotting with international terrorists. Every one of those claims has been totally exploded. The only known connection to terrorism is that the war increased it, exactly as every intelligence agency predicted it was going to do.

A culture of instant gratification

Q: On February 15, you had millions of people around the world, and hundreds of thousands in the United States, protesting the war in Iraq. And yet some people came out of that saying, “Well, I protested, and nothing changed. The foreign policy didn’t change.”

A: You see, that goes back to the earlier discussion, where we were talking about before about institutional permanence and continuity. I mean, in the United States, where there is very little continuity of social movements, and little permanence, and no institutional base, the attitudes that people have are, “We’ll try, we’ll put out a lot of effort for the next couple months, and if it didn’t work, that shows everything’s impossible.” You know, that’s not the way any social movement’s ever worked. I mean, abolitionism, women’s rights, labor rights, anything you take — you have to expect to keep at it day after day.

But the idea that you’re going to have some kind of instant gratification, or else it was worthless, is a very typically American idea. There’s a ton of propaganda about it. You’re supposed to look for instant gratification. [Click here for discussion of the 1968 Columbia University strike.] And when people [in the seventies] failed to achieve the long-term goals, they regarded it as a failure. And right at that point, the massive popular movements here — the young ones — a lot of them went off into very self-destructive directions.

These were unprecedented protests [in February]. Of course they’re not going to stop power systems, and anyone who participated should have understood that. But they might be a barrier to the next step, if you persist with them. But you have to have a realistic understanding of where power lies, how it can adapt to large-scale protests, and where they must go if they want to really change things.

Q: Do you think that movements today are getting better at building bridges across lines of race, class, gender, religion, other lines of identity?

A: There are some that are pretty successful at it. How much that generalizes is really hard to say. Because it’s also quite easy for systems of power and domination to separate people on these issues. Take the Immigrant [Workers Freedom] Ride. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out how to get immigrants and workers to be on opposite sides. Same on international trade issues. If jobs are lost here, they’re going somewhere else. Well, how do you deal with that? The people and peasants in China have to eat too, so you can’t just disregard that question. [Click here for discussion of the North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA) and the Free Trade Area of the Americas (FTAA).]

Q: What kind of organizing would say would be more effective?

A: It’s got to be something that’s not just directed to a demonstration and then when you fail, you say, “Okay, we gave up.” It has to be day-to-day, ongoing organization. Delegations going to the Boston Globe editorial office and saying we want you to report the result of these reports, and if you don’t, we’re going to leaflet the whole city and say you’re a bunch of this, that, and the other thing. You know, that kind of pressure could work, and could break through. Alternative journalists could have done it. Very few did. Very few even knew about [the demonstrations surrounding the 2001 Free Trade Area of the Americas summit in Quebec]. Again, you could read [about] it in Z Magazine or probably IndyMedia and stuff like that. But it doesn’t reach people because we don’t have the regular, continuing organizations.

If you go back to an older period — take, say, the period when the Communist Party was alive. And there’s lots and lots of things wrong with the Communist Party, Stalinism and everything else. But it was a very important organization, because it existed, and it was continuing. [Click here for discussion of Chomsky’s family and their involvement with the Communist Party.] You don’t want to reconstitute the old Stalinist Party, obviously. But you want to know what was right about it, as well as what was wrong about it.

Q: What role does democracy play in social movements today?

A: Unless they are really participatory, they’re not going to have staying power, and shouldn’t. And these are not easy things to develop. Anybody who’s been in any popular movement, whether it’s a group of twenty people or something larger, knows that there are internal tendencies that lead to hierarchy. [Click here for more on the importance of democracy in movements.]

Q: It has to be this consciousness among people, to make them creative, active citizens?

A: It has to be a consciousness, yes. Just as a massive propaganda system, that everyone’s subjected to from infancy, is trying to drive them to become what are called “rational wealth maximizers” — maximize your own wealth, and don’t give a damn about anybody else — there’s huge pressures to turn people into that, and there have to be equally huge pressures, or bigger ones, to bring out other aspects of human concerns and capacities. But it takes work.

Q: The New York Times is talking about the emergence of the “other superpower” to contest American power.

A: They were worried about it. Just like they were worried about the crisis of democracy. That one sentence in The New York Times represented real fear that the world may be getting out of control. And it shows up in other respects, too. Take this whole Old Europe, New Europe business. In part, it was just the expression of the absolute, passionate hatred of democracy among American elites, which is really remarkable. I mean, the fact that Old Europe is denounced because the governments took the same position as the majority of the population, and New Europe is praised because the governments overrode an even bigger majority of the population.

But there’s much deeper issues than that. Old Europe is France and Germany. That’s the industrial and commercial and financial heartland of Europe. And the concern over that, reflects an old concern — going back to the Second World War — that Europe was going to strike an independent course. And if it does it’ll be led by its heartland, France and Germany. So when they get out of line, and if they don’t follow orders from Crawford, Texas, it’s really dangerous. Because they might take Europe along with them into an independent course in world affairs. [Click here for discussion of the growing power of Northeast Asia.]

So it’s not just the “second superpower” — you know, popular opinion. It’s also the fact that the world has conflicting centers of power. The U.S. happens to dominate militarily, but not in other dimensions. The idea of losing control is very frightening, whether it’s control of domestic population, or control of the world system and so on. And international policies are very heavily geared toward this. Say, taking control of Iraqi oil, or making sure that Caspian Sea pipelines go to the West. A lot of this is based on the concern that Northeast Asia might seek energy independence. Which would mean the loss of a very powerful lever of control.

Q: When some Americans see the protests around the world against, for instance, the Iraq War, they see that as anti-Americanism. Do you think that’s a valid concern?

A: The very notion is interesting. The very fact that that notion exists is interesting. Concepts like anti-Americanism only exist in totalitarian states. Suppose people in Italy protest against Berlusconi. Is that called anti-Italianism? In Russia, it was called anti-Sovietism. In Brazil, under the generals, if you protested you were anti-Brazilian. But the only way that concept can exist is if you identify the leadership with the society, the culture, the people, their aspirations, and so on. If you do that, if you accept that deeply totalitarian doctrine, you can have notions like anti-Sovietism, anti-Brazilianism, anti-Americanism, and so on. [Click here for more on anti-Americanism.]

Q: What do you think the future of social movements will be, and are you optimistic or pessimistic?

A: I think the tendencies over the last thirty or forty years are pretty hopeful. But it’s really a question of trajectory. I mean, there are very competing trajectories in the world. There’s one towards centralization and militarization and domination. And disaster, because it is facing disaster. There’s another towards increasing concern over human rights, over issues of peace, over — you know, “Is this going to be an environment for our grandchildren to live in?” — and so on. And the question is which of these trajectories dominates.”

Victor Tan Chen is In The Fray's editor in chief and the author of Cut Loose: Jobless and Hopeless in an Unfair Economy. Site: victortanchen.com | Facebook | Twitter: @victortanchen

 

The end of old-school organizing

How United for a Fair Economy is reaching across lines of class and race in the fight for economic justice.

“Billionaires for Bush” take to the streets in support of Bush’s tax cuts. (United for a Fair Economy)

It’s day two of their hunger strike, and the men in red bandannas mill glumly in front of a wrought-iron fence, their shoes sodden from the cold February downpour. Beyond the fence, yellow-uniformed security guards block the way into Taco Bell Corp. headquarters, a sleek steel and glass building ensconced in a corporate park in Irvine, California.

Immigrants from Mexico, Guatemala, Haiti, and elsewhere, the men spent three days on a bus to get here from Immokalee, Florida, where they pick tomatoes for a living, the very tomatoes used in Taco Bell’s Soft Taco Supreme or Nachos BellGrande. Immokalee is, in the words of one Justice Department official, “ground zero for modern slavery.” Coercion and intimidation, the workers say, are commonplace in the fields; in the past six years, prosecutors there have successfully tried six cases of involuntary servitude.

It’s easy to see why the job isn’t appealing. Contractors pay the pickers a little more than one cent per pound of tomatoes picked — on a good day, a sum of $50 for ten hours of back-breaking work in the sun, among the mosquitoes. Now the workers are fighting rumbling bellies and inclement weather to get Taco Bell’s attention. Their demand: a raise of one penny per pound picked.

Tomás Aguilar, a popular educator for United for a Fair Economy who joined the men when their bus stopped in Los Angeles, is here to give the striking workers a sense of the “big picture” of inequality in America. He has given this talk — on the “Growing Divide” in wealth and income — at countless colleges and workplaces. But this time is different.

As he stands in the rain alongside the tomato pickers, Aguilar decides to ditch his flipcharts, handouts, and “inequality” exercises. Instead of launching into his usual spiel on the World Trade Organization, he begins by asking the men to tell their own stories — what drove them out of their communities, why they came to Florida to pick tomatoes, what brought them here to Irvine.

With his chubby cheeks and boyish looks, Aguilar doesn’t fit the part of the rabble-rousing labor activist, but at forty-one he has worked his share of minimum wage, service-sector jobs. He is also savvy enough to know how to adjust his pitch to the audience. The discussion he led that rainy day in February neatly illustrates the new approach that United for a Fair Economy (UFE) and other activist groups are taking nowadays: attempting to cross lines of culture, race, and class by recognizing rather than ignoring differences.

Explicitly rejecting the traditional “colorblind” approach that shuns potentially divisive issues like race, UFE has encouraged frank discussion among its members about their social divisions. It’s what is sometimes known as the “personal narrative” approach to organizing — a concerted effort to get people to air their own experiences, thoughts, and emotions, in the hope that such dialogue will help build the personal relationships that sustain a social movement.

To connect with the tomato pickers of Immokalee, Aguilar couldn’t do what he did at college campuses. He had to get beyond what he calls the “PowerPoint mentality” — that self-consciously sophisticated toolbox of snazzy computer presentations and carefully collated three-ring binders that the professional activist relies upon. He had to speak in plain Spanish. “I know [that in] Latino culture, people tell stories,” says Aguilar, the son of Mexican migrant workers who immigrated to Texas, where Aguilar was born. “And I had to get used to that. I had to get out of my mindset of saying, ‘But wait, the agenda says we should be here, and we’re only here.’ The important thing is for people to tell their story and get their point out.”

In a 1998 re-enactment of the Boston Tea Party, Republican lawmakers are poised to throw a crate containing the U.S. tax code into Boston Harbor — but then the “Working Family Life Raft” (manned by UFE staffers Chris Hartman and Kristin Barreli) floats into view. (United for a Fair Economy)

Organizing in America’s underbelly

Before he became a popular educator for UFE, Tomás Aguilar spent twenty years in America’s underpaid, underappreciated service sector. He did everything from making deliveries to answering telephones to waiting tables.

Working in the underbelly of the American economy, Aguilar got to see, firsthand, the ways that race — his race — shaped the opportunities available to him. In his native south Texas, Aguilar racked up years of experience waiting tables. But when he moved to Boston in the late eighties, he had trouble finding work. “The restaurants I had worked in before were nice restaurants,” Aguilar says. “But over here, they would just look at me and say, ‘Oh, we don’t have any waiter positions. How ’bout a busboy?’ ”

Eventually, Aguilar found a job at a KFC in a predominantly white suburb. Several Mexican and Central American immigrants worked there, alongside white teenage co-workers who would utter racial slurs to their faces while grumbling about the growing numbers of Asian American customers. “It was interesting,” Aguilar says. “You had the people coming in ‘taking over,’ who were Asian. And, on the other hand, [the white kids] were there serving them, but they were lashing out against the Latinos.”

The same questions Aguilar had back then, as a minimum-wage employee in a racially charged workplace, would later become the focus of his work at UFE. UFE’s team of “popular educators” help people make sense of the larger trends in income and wealth in America — how the gap between rich and poor is growing and what that means for politics, democracy, and workers’ everyday lives. Race is a large, yet often hidden, part of that story. The laborers toiling in the fields for U.S. corporations — including the Florida tomato pickers who waged a hunger strike against Taco Bell last February — tend to be dark-skinned. Likewise, poor people of color and immigrants tend to be among those most affected by the dramatic cuts in social services now occurring in state after state as the costs of war and recession mount.

Given that racial inequality is so tangled up with America’s economic inequality, UFE is trying to make race more central to their educational campaigns. To date, UFE has focused on reaching out to the country’s rapidly growing Latino community. Jeannette Huezo, UFE’s training network coordinator and herself a Salvadoran immigrant, spearheaded the work of making UFE’s resources accessible to Latinos — linguistically and culturally. UFE now offers versions of their educational workshops on economic inequality, progressive taxation, and the local consequences of global trade that are conducted completely in Spanish. And they have partnered with Latino activists across the country — doing workshops for the Florida-based Coalition of Immokalee Workers (the organizers of the Taco Bell hunger strike); making connections with housing activists in Jamaica Plain, Massachusetts; and organizing a network of Latino popular educators across New England.

Part of the challenge is learning to tailor UFE’s approach so that it’s culturally accessible to different groups. “You’re working on tax issues. Right away you assume that’s a wonky area that older white men work on,” Aguilar says. He remembers how a Latina woman once came to his workshop with a calculator, thinking that she’d have to do sums because it was supposed to be about “economics.”

Being able to talk to people about these issues in their own language also makes a huge difference, Aguilar says. “It’s a much different vibe than just having interpreters, because you lose all the storytelling, the sharing.”

Using the “personal narrative” approach to let Latino workers “tell their stories” goes beyond creating a pleasant group dynamic, or even dealing with cultural differences. It’s about sensitivity: opening up space at the table for a variety of voices, confronting problems head-on, treating differences as opportunities rather than challenges.

This approach can be seen in another of UFE’s recent projects, a book called The Color of Wealth, co-written by five authors — American Indian, African American, Asian American, Latino, and white. The book tells the stories of different racial and ethnic groups as they tried to “make it” in America, documenting the federal policies that helped whites gain wealth while throwing legal barriers in the way of the advancement of people of color. “We want to counter the argument that affirmative action has created a level playing field — in fact, there is a history of calculated, accumulated disadvantage,” says Meizhu Lui, UFE’s executive director. “Our message is that policies created the inequality, and policies can be changed.” The book will come out in early 2005; in the meantime, UFE is developing a new educational campaign focused on the “racial wealth gap,” and recently hired two African American staffers to work on it.

Three of the writers featured in The Color of Wealth come from UFE’s staff or board — a fact that speaks volumes about the organization’s new direction. In recent years UFE has tried to make its own office culture more welcoming to underrepresented minorities. For instance, it now has an affirmative action policy that takes class into account, and it also has designated staff to handle employee personality conflicts that are racially charged. It now has seven people of color on a staff of eighteen.

Even as they reach out to new communities, Lui and other activists recognize that their movement must appeal to broad segments of the American public — traversing racial and class lines — if it is going to muster any political wherewithal. Along these lines, organizers at UFE talk about the need to organize people of color on issues of economic inequality without alienating the white working class. They talk about creating a strong coalition of low- and middle-income Americans, while leaving room for affluent Americans who buy into the justice of their cause.

“Clearly, people need to organize around identity and fight fights around identity, and that’s a place for tremendous energy and power and self-interest,” says Chuck Collins, UFE’s program director and co-founder. The thing is, organizers for too long have been stuck in an “either-or” mindset, Collins says: Either they focus on class, and treat race as something “invisible,” or they hone in on race, and ignore how their race-based demands turn off the legions of white workers who also think of themselves as underpaid and exploited.

“In the process of doing multiracial, multiclass organizing, we’re kind of realizing that everyone has a piece of the puzzle,” Collins says.

Chuck Collins speaks at a Boston rally immediately following the landmark 1999 protest in Seattle against the World Trade Organization. (United for a Fair Economy)

Reaching out to the rich …

“Everyone” really does mean “everyone” — even the fabulously rich. In January, Beacon Press published a new book called Wealth and Our Commonwealth, which makes the case for preserving the estate tax, the tax on inherited fortunes that Republicans have been trying to kill for years and managed to strike down — temporarily — in the Bush administration’s tax cuts two years ago. The co-authors of that book? Chuck Collins and William H. Gates, Sr. — father of the richest man in the world.

The book was the brainchild of UFE’s Responsible Wealth project, a network of businesspeople, investors, and affluent Americans lobbying for policies to address the country’s “deepening economic inequality.” Their discontent could be summed up in one statistic: Today, the richest 1 percent of Americans own 40 percent of the country’s private wealth — more than the collective wealth of the bottom 95 percent of Americans. (The so-called “Gilded Age” of the late nineteenth century was only slightly worse: The richest 1 percent of families had about half of the wealth.) “Here we are in the second Gilded Age, and we’re dismantling the rungs of the ladder,” Collins says. “The more the political priorities reference the desires of the wealthy, the less friendly that policy will be to low- and middle-income people. It’s just not on the radar screen. [The wealthy] are not sitting around saying, ‘How can we solve the day-care crisis?’ They’re saying, ‘How can we reduce the tax burden on capital?’ ”

Attempting to reverse this trend, Responsible Wealth has recruited some of the nation’s richest businesspeople in a fight to preserve the estate tax, a tax levied on substantial personal fortunes ($1 million and above) upon the death of their owners. Investor Warren Buffett, financier George Soros, and Seattle lawyer William Gates, Sr. — father of Microsoft founder Bill Gates — are some of the big names on UFE’s all-star roster. Their insistence that they want to be taxed even more heavily recently landed UFE on the front page of The New York Times. “Dozens of Rich Americans Join In Fight to Retain the Estate Tax,” the headline read.

To date, Responsible Wealth has racked up the signatures of 1,555 individuals subject to the estate tax who have called for its preservation. In addition to its work on “tax fairness,” the project is also lobbying for corporate reforms (for instance, introducing shareholder resolutions that call for corporate boards to stop rewarding executives with bloated compensation packages) and for the passage of “living wage” ordinances (legislation that puts a floor on salaries based on what families need to survive).

Why would rich Americans support a cause seemingly against their self-interest? UFE’s wealthy allies point to the role that regulated markets, a reliable legal system, and publicly subsidized education and research have played in their own business success. They realize that too much wealth in the hands of too few ultimately threatens democracy and national unity. “These are people who understand good fortune is not entirely of their own making, who understand the role that society plays in their good fortune,” Collins says. “They are also parents and grandparents, and they see where things are heading, and know that there are limits to how tall they can build walls around their own families.”

Collins speaks from personal experience. The great-grandson of hotdog magnate Oscar Mayer, Collins grew up in Detroit amidst privileged surroundings — and extreme segregation. An awareness of inequality struck early, with the Detroit riot of 1967. “My seven-year-old impression was that things weren’t fair,” he says. “My analysis hasn’t changed much.” When he turned twenty-six and inherited half a million dollars, Collins astounded many by deciding to give it away. Most of it went to the Haymarket People’s Fund, a progressive foundation named after the 1886 Chicago riot that was a turning point in the American labor movement.

After spending more than a decade battling inequality — first as an affordable housing advocate, and then in the Central American peace movement — Collins co-founded United for a Fair Economy in 1995. He and other activists felt that the public lacked the information and context to criticize the country’s dramatic polarization of income and wealth in recent years. “People experience the economy in a very individual way,” he says, “kind of like the weather. They don’t look at how their individual circumstances are connected to these larger trends.” To combat this ignorance, it’s not very effective to crusade against specific rich individuals with nasty habits, even if the recent scandals at Enron and WorldCom have made this easy sport. Rather, Collin says, UFE has to show people how the rules themselves are being “hijacked” to favor some people over others.

With this strategy in mind, Collins sees winning over sympathetic billionaires as a smart tactic. “Successful social movements mobilize a base, but also undercut or divide an elite — or more affirmatively, win allies in the governing elite. When the elite is not totally lined up, you have a little room to move. When the elite is lined up, it’s tough to move — you don’t have much social organizing space, or legitimacy.” By getting the Rockefellers and Buffetts of the world on their side, UFE has been able to defend higher tax rates for the rich — that is, “progressive” taxation — by an appeal to “higher principles,” Collins says.

What UFE’s strategy makes clear is that divisions don’t necessarily undermine democracy. In fact, in the right hands, divisions can be harnessed to further democracy by rallying the public against those who would seek to concentrate political power in the hands of a select few. The trick is not to make the divisions too rigid — which would lead to the tired “us” vs. “them” mentality — but to open up space for people to cross categories, if they so choose.

UFE educator Betsy Leondar-Wright conducts a workshop on the growth of economic inequality in America.

… while still wooing the working class

Even as they try to win over new allies, activists for economic justice are coming to the painful realization that the people who have traditionally been their steadfast supporters — those downtrodden proletarians, the white working class — have largely turned away from progressives, the Democratic Party, or any other kind of politics that vaguely smells of liberalism. During the Cold War, conservative politicians stoked fears of communism to turn working- and middle-class Americans against a strong safety net and other social policies that could help equalize opportunities. Nowadays, they simply demonize the (dark-skinned) poor. “Conservatives have used race as a wedge to pull the white working class behind reactionary agendas,” Collins points out.

One of UFE’s goals is to “shift” that wedge — that is, redirect people’s anger away from immigrants and the poor and toward the richest 5 percent. “The right wing has been very successful at driving that wedge between the very poorest of people and everybody else,” says Lui. “So we try to drive the wedge between the very richest and everyone else.”

When Lui took over as UFE’s executive director two years ago, she sought to make race a more visible issue on the organization’s agenda. Much of UFE’s outreach into communities of color has taken place under her watch. But like Collins, she maintains that UFE should not give up its work with whites. “It’s kind of like, you don’t want to kill the goose that laid the golden egg, you know? So I see it not so much as bringing down something, but building something else up, so it’s equal,” she says.

A former service worker and union organizer, Lui has spent most of her life working alongside — and later, organizing — this much sought-after voting bloc. Her interactions haven’t always been pretty. In the mid-seventies, as a single mom with a seven-year-old son, she was desperately in need of work. It was the height of the recession, and the only job she could find was at Dunkin Donuts. “When I was hired for the job, the manager said to me, ‘Oh, you Chinese are good workers, aren’t you?’ So I said, ‘Ah-so, velly good!’“ Lui recalls, with a laugh. “Cause I really needed the job.”

Later, when she became a kitchen worker at Boston City Hospital and the first Asian American in the history of Massachusetts to be elected president of a union, she retained her thick skin. “I had to work with whites who were quite racist, but they were working-class whites, and I knew to form a strong union, I had to work with them — I had to win them over, too,” she says. “So it was good practice, because I think many times people of color on the left just say, ‘Okay, they’re racist, we’re going to write them off,’ but in the end we’re not going to win a victory, we’re not going to create the society we want, unless we move people who don’t agree with us to begin with.”

But how to woo people of color without alienating whites? Social policies directed at the poor have historically been seen as burdens on the white community, who believe the money is going only to African Americans and Latinos. UFE organizers have tried to get around the chasm of race politics by carting out their own bogeyman: the greed-crazed corporate CEO. They send political “groupies” dressed in three-piece suits and mink coats onto the campaign trail — “Billionaires for Bush (or Gore)” — to shine a light on politicians’ corporate influences. They take out irreverent ads ridiculing anti-estate tax activists as a small group of right-wing radicals. And they fire off press releases that illuminate the growing gulf between the salaries of CEOs and those of their worker bees (a ratio that rose from 42 to 1 in 1980 to 282 to 1 in 2002).

Another way that UFE works to defuse racial resentments is by advocating policies that aren’t “race-based,” but that working Americans across the racial spectrum can support. “Tactically, I think that’s a mistake,” says Collins, referring to racially targeted proposals such as slavery reparations. “We need to have a universal wealth-broadening agenda that, by the way, will disproportionately benefit people of color, but isn’t framed as such. Because there’s still a lot of divisions in the white working class, who also want access to home ownership, savings, debt-free college education.” Collins argues in favor of broad-based, universal social policies akin to the G.I. bill — the post-War War II legislation that enabled millions of working-class war veterans to go to college and buy homes.

“Is it possible? Will [these policies] lose political support because they’re seen as benefiting people of color? Will they not really redress the historic inequalities?” Collins doesn’t have a good answer to his questions. But he and Lui both agree that whatever policies ultimately get put forward, organizers need to show genuine sensitivity to all the different groups in their coalition in order to keep people happy and the movement progressing. “We’re fumbling along, trying to figure things out, but at the same time not remaking ourselves into the Center for Third World Organizing,” Collins says, referring to an Oakland-based activist group that organizes communities of color. “Where do we have a piece of the organizing puzzle that no one else is doing? Can we keep talking about the importance of class while ignoring the importance of race? It’s very emotionally charged at times: ‘Which side are you on?’ I hope we can get beyond the either-or politics.”

You can see this complex approach toward organizing in the way that UFE responded to the nationwide protests against the Iraq war. In a new workshop called “The War on the Economy,” the organization made a conscious effort to reach two distinct groups: middle-class whites disgusted with the Bush administration’s foreign adventures, and working-class people of color slammed by drastic cuts in social services. They hired an African American organizer to present the workshop to community organizations and political groups in the Boston area.

“Communities of color have been more focused on the war at home,” Lui says. “[Meanwhile], more progressive whites are thinking, ‘Oh my god, we’re doing this horrible stuff abroad!’ And they’re thinking less about … what’s going on in the neighborhood right next door.” By helping activists in communities of color understand the war abroad and the militarization of the U.S. economy, and helping white peace-and-justice activists appreciate the impact of the war on lower-income people at home, UFE hoped to bridge the two worlds, Lui says.

You could say that it’s the same kind of work that Tomás Aguilar was doing in Irvine, California last February — bridging the gulf between two cultures. The hunger strikers from the Florida tomato fields and the organizer from downtown Boston spoke the same language, but a cultural divide yawned before them. For his part, Aguilar wrestled with the extent of his own privilege — how he could go out and buy new socks, while the strikers walked around in soggy shoes — and wondered what he, the outsider, could contribute to their cause.

In the end, the strike reached a stalemate. Taco Bell only agreed to talks and made no promises. The workers’ campaign goes on.

Yet, the people who went through the concientitazión, or consciousness-raising, so essential to building a larger movement — Aguilar included — came out of it transformed. Aguilar remembers one moment in particular, when the tomato pickers began to get a sense of what all this talk of inequality really meant. Instead of turning to his prepared charts, Aguilar asked his audience to open their eyes and look around them. On one side: security guards, fences, luxury cars, shiny glass buildings. “And then us, sleeping on the sidewalk, rainy — with umbrellas, with little tents — out there, singing, playing guitar, fasting,” Aguilar says. “And educating ourselves. It was just like, wow … Who needs the charts? This is what it looks like.”

STORY INDEX

ORGANIZATIONS >

Center for Third World Organizing
Racial justice organization that seeks to build a “social justice movement led by people of color.” Based in Oakland, California.
URL: http://www.ctwo.org

Coalition of Immokalee Workers
Workers’ rights group that organizes migrant farmworkers. Based in Immokalee, Florida.
URL: http://ciw-online.org

Responsible Wealth
Boston-based network of businesspeople and investors “concerned about deepening economic inequality.”
URL: http://www.responsiblewealth.org

United for a Fair Economy
Boston-based non-profit organization that supports social movements for greater equality.
URL: http://www.faireconomy.org (Spanish version: http://www.economiajusta.org)

TOPICS > ECONOMIC JUSTICE >

“Boycott the Bell!”
An account of the hunger strike by farmworkers outside Taco Bell headquarters in Irvine, California. By the Coalition of Immokalee Workers. February 20-March 5, 2003.
URL: http://www.ciw-online.org/CIW%20hunger_strike_site/hunger_strike_daily_report.html

“Call to Preserve the Estate Tax”
Signers of Responsible Wealth’s “Call to Preserve the Estate Tax” who are subject to that tax. By United for a Fair Economy. September 25, 2003.
URL: http://www.responsiblewealth.org/estatetax/ETCall_Signers.html

“The Triumph of Hope Over Self-Interest”
By David Brooks. Published in The New York Times. January 12, 2003.
URL: http://www.nytimes.com/2003/01/12/opinion/12BROO.html

Victor Tan Chen is In The Fray's editor in chief and the author of Cut Loose: Jobless and Hopeless in an Unfair Economy. Site: victortanchen.com | Facebook | Twitter: @victortanchen

 

500 channels (and nothing on)

The FCC has dealt a major blow to diversity on our airwaves.

It might not seem like the sexiest story, but the Federal Communications Commission’s decision last week to loosen restrictions on media consolidation and monopoly is arguably one of the most important developments of our day. It is a major blow for those who want diverse viewpoints represented on our airwaves, in our newspapers, and throughout our ‘Net. The decision guts consumer protections put in place between 1945 and 1975 to foster competition and prevent monopoly control of the media. Under the new rules, a single company can keep buying TV stations until it reaches 45 percent of American households; previously, the cap was set at 35 percent. The decision also weakens two important regulations that prevented monopolies in local media markets. One banned the ownership of multiple TV stations in a single market (in the largest cities, a company is now allowed to own up to three TV stations). The other prevented a company from owning a broadcast station and a newspaper in a single city (under the new rules, only in markets with three or fewer TV stations would this “cross-ownership” ban still be in effect).

What does all this mean? Thanks to the rule changes, media giants like News Corp., Viacom, and Gannett will be able to control even more TV stations, newspapers, and radio stations across the country. “We are moving to a world where in larger markets one owner can combine the cable system, three television stations, eight radio stations, the dominant newspaper, and the leading Internet provider, not to mention cable networks, magazine publishers and programming studios which could produce the vast bulk of the programming available to those outlets”, said dissenting FCC Commissioner Michael J. Copps, in a statement released last week. “In my view, it is no exaggeration to say the rules now permit the emergence of a Twenty-First Century Citizen Kane on the local level, with perhaps a handful of Citizen Kanes on the national level.”

What made the decision so extraordinary was that it was made even as a broad coalition of citizens groups–conservative and liberal–rallied against it. Groups from the National Organization of Women to the National Rifle Association said that more consolidation would keep their opinions off the air and put too much power in the hands of a few already bloated corporations. Consumer advocates joined with small broadcasters, civil rights organizations joined with religious groups–denouncing as a chorus the relaxation of restrictions on “cross-ownership”, which they said would discourage news organizations from monitoring each other’s reporting and narrow the range of opinions presented for public consumption.

Conservative columnist William Safire went so far a to call the decision a “power grab” by the rich and powerful. “The concentration of power–political, corporate, media, cultural–should be anathema to conservatives”, he wrote last month in The New York Times. “Why do we have more channels but fewer real choices today? Because the ownership of our means of communication is shrinking. Moguls glory in amalgamation, but more individuals than they realize resent the loss of local control and community identity.”

Safire and others also complained that the FCC failed to take seriously the public’s opinion about whether to loosen the existing regulations. As it turned out, the FCC received a record number of comments from the public–almost three quarters of a million. “Nearly all oppose increased media consolidation–over 99.9 percent,” said Copps in his statement last week. “The spirit underlying the ‘notice and comment’ procedure of independent agencies is that important proposed changes need to be seen and vetted before they are voted. We haven’t been true to that spirit. Today we vote before we vet.”

Media conglomerates like Walt Disney Co. (owner of ABC) and News Corp. (owner of the Fox News Channel and Fox TV network) argued that the changes were needed because the dramatic growth of cable television, the Internet, and satellite TV had dramatically changed the industry. The free programming that networks like ABC and CBS have offered for decades could be in jeopardy, they argued, if these companies were not provided with more flexibility to make profits.

FCC Chairperson Powell, the son of Secretary of State Colin Powell, also pointed out that changing the rules was the only way to save them. The U.S. Court of Appeals for the D.C. Circuit had in recent years shot down several of the agency’s ownership rules, saying they were unjustified under present law. In fact, the 35-percent cap on TV station ownership that consumer advocates wanted kept in place had been unenforceable since 2001, when it was remanded by the court. “Keeping the rules exactly as they are, as some so stridently suggest, was not a viable option,” Powell said in a statement last week announcing the new rules.

But even if it’s true that reform was necessary, it does not follow that the FCC needed to stage a corporate coup d’etat of the likes of last week’s decision. For one thing, the arguments by large media companies that they need more flexibility to make profits is simply ludicrous. TV stations boast annual profit margins in the range of 20 to 50 percent, an astounding figure even in an industry as profitable as media. Just last month, a record $9.4 billion in upfront sales was purchased for the next season of network advertising, up 13 percent from the previous year.

Then there is the more troubling question of how relaxing regulations on media ownership in this day and age actually serves the public interest. After all, the changes that the FCC put in place last week threaten the two things that are crucial for healthy public debate: localism and diversity.

“I think we put into jeopardy a system that is reliant on local views and divergent thought,” Ben Turner, president of Fisher Broadcasting, told The Washington Post. Based in Seattle and broadcasting throughout the Pacific Northwest, Fisher Broadcasting is a medium-sized media company. Though the FCC insisted that the rule changes would encourage competition and help small broadcasters, Turner believes that the opposite is true. Local coverage will suffer, he says, as large companies buy up local TV stations and slash programming budgets. “The more power you give a few companies, the less opportunity you are going to have for a lot of divergent thought at the local level as a countercheck to network programming.”

Supporters of the relaxed regulations say that an open, unregulated market leads to a diversity of viewpoints. They point to the explosion of cable TV channels in recent years as evidence for this. But there’s reason to be suspicious of the claim. Remember that song by Bruce Springsteen, “57 Channels (And Nothing On)”? Having lots of options means little if the “options” are all the same. And as it turns out, almost all the top cable channels are owned by the same corporations that own the TV networks and cable systems. As for the programming that fills these airwaves and cable streams, the networks have substantially increased the amount that they own over the last decade–thanks to the absence of any restrictions on who owns programming. And so we’re left with hundreds of channels, thousands of media outlets–and the same mindless, formulaic shows. “A person can always add more electrical outlets throughout their home, but that doesn’t mean they will get their electricity from new sources. The same goes for media outlets,” said FCC Commissioner Jonathan S. Adelstein, who also voted against last week’s rule changes.

Perhaps we should look at what happened after a similar attempt to “encourage competition” in 1996, when Congress and the FCC decided to roll back regulations on the radio industry. What followed was a frenzy of corporate consolidation. “We saw a 34 percent reduction in the number of radio station owners,” Copps says. “Diversity of programming suffered. Homogenized music and standardized programming crowded out local and regional talent. Creative local artists found it evermore difficult to obtain play time.” And instead of encouraging a variety of viewpoints, the rapid consolidation of the radio industry has further “polarized” editorial opinion, Copps says. Consider the recent political activities of the country’s largest radio conglomerate, Clear Channel Communications. In 1995, it owned 43 radio stations; today it owns more than 1,200. Critics of the radio giant allege that it has used its clout to further its own political causes–promoting pro-war rallies during the U.S.-led invasion of Iraq, and keeping critics of the war, like the Dixie Chicks, off of its play lists.

The FCC’s new rules endanger diversity in another way. Those individuals who usually have the most difficulty getting their point of view out into the public arena–people of color, rural Americans, gays and lesbians–will find their task even harder. In a further deregulated marketplace, the (few) small media companies that aren’t interested in selling their stations will quickly be pushed out of business by the media giants. Since minorities tend to be at the helm of these smaller media companies, this effectively means they will be shut out of media ownership.

As it is now, less than four percent of radio and television owners are people of color. According to the National Association of Black Owned Broadcasters, the number of minority owners of broadcast facilities has dropped by 14 percent since 1997. Fearing that the FCC’s revised regulations would make this grim picture even worse, the Congressional Black, Hispanic, and Asian Pacific American caucuses on Capitol Hill all came out against last week’s decision.

For those who believed that the ‘Net might be the salvation of diversity in American media, think again: Almost a decade after the online revolution began, the top news sources are controlled by the same media giants who dominate radio, TV, newspapers, and cable. The new FCC regulations do little to stop the consolidation going on in our last bastion of media democracy–a consolidation that the agency has, in fact, encouraged over the past year. For instance, the FCC earlier this year gave regional phone companies the power to deny other companies access to their high-speed data pipelines. “This basically mirrored earlier policies allowing the cable companies, which also created networks by getting government-granted monopolies, to refuse to share access to their lines,” writes tech columnist Dan Gillmor in the San Jose Mercury News. “In other words, U.S. high-speed data access will soon be under the thumb of two of the most anti-competitive industries around.”

Fortunately, last week’s decision has not ended the public debate over how to regulate the media industry. The remarkable coalition of conservative and liberal groups that tried in vain to win over Powell’s commission is now putting pressure on lawmakers in Congress. So far, they’ve had some luck in the Senate, where Democrats and quite a few Republicans (including Mississippi Senator Trent Lott) have taken up the cause. Last week, Democratic Senator John F. Kerry of Massachusetts said he would file a “resolution of disapproval” to block the FCC’s rule changes, and Republican Senator Ted Stevens of Alaska introduced a bill to return the ownership cap to 35 percent. Even if it passes the Senate, however, the legislation will still need to pass muster in the House, where Republicans have an even heftier majority and the leadership has taken a more hostile attitude toward any additional regulations.

Much hangs in the balance. Mass media has always been the fabric of our sprawling democracy, allowing for public debate across a vast nation and making possible the very idea of government “by the people.” But now that control over the media is falling into the hands of a few, that debate–and that democracy–are in jeopardy.

If we do nothing to stop the federal government’s mad dash away from the public interest, the future that lies before us is grim indeed. At best, we will be served up ever larger helpings of the processed, formulaic, and focused-grouped content that we’ve grown to abhor on our evening news and prime-time TV; at worst, we will witness the corruption of our democracy, as media conglomerates silence local voices and limit the boundaries of public debate. At a time when the media already shapes so many of our perceptions of the world beyond our living rooms, the nightmare scenario might as well as be something out of The Matrix: a  “virtual” reality where everything we know, everything we think, has been packaged for our consumption by a few multinational corporations. Impossible, you say? I hope you’ll prove me wrong, and raise your voice before it’s drowned out.”

Victor Tan Chen is In The Fray's editor in chief and the author of Cut Loose: Jobless and Hopeless in an Unfair Economy. Site: victortanchen.com | Facebook | Twitter: @victortanchen

 

Old Glory in new times

The patriotism that made America great now endangers it.

The war was only a week old, and a friend was already complaining about the protestors. Not the anti-war ones. The people on the other side of the street–the ones protesting the idea of protest. Men and women decked in red, white, and blue, angry and solemn and proud, waving their flags like weapons. Perhaps they didn’t reflect the majority of Americans who supported this war, but they were the faces he saw whenever he turned on the TV. The most patriotic of patriots.

My friend was against the war when it started, largely because he felt it would bring about more terrorism. But he did not march in any of the demonstrations. He isn’t an activist. He’s the son of Korean immigrants, who worked the counters of a convenience store for years so that their two children could go to college. My friend was born in the United States, and has never stepped foot outside of it.
  
And yet something turned him off about the pro-war protestors. They represented the America that has shunned him, he told me. Shunned him? He has a good job, a college education, a comfortable lifestyle. America has been good to him, he is the first to admit. But he watched the people wave their flags and say, I am an American. This is America.” And they were almost all white. And the things they were saying reminded him of the co-workers and acquaintances and strangers who have uttered ignorant, even racist, things in his presence–about African Americans or Arab Americans when they think he’s on their side, about “Orientals” when they forget. He does not feel a part of their America. And yet he is just like them: an American by birth.
  
Nothing brings out patriotism more than war. A public that was initially skeptical of war in Iraq rallied in support of it, once American soldiers were fighting, and dying, abroad. Significant dissent emerged, but it fought a holding action against the tide of patriotism that swept up everyone–journalists, union workers, soccer moms, and Wall Street bankers alike. Now that the fighting seems to be ending, and coalition forces have apparently succeeded in toppling Saddam Hussein’s brutal regime, that sense of pride has only swelled. Even some longtime critics of the war have changed their tune. They watch TV images of Iraqis celebrating as U.S. soldiers tear down statues of the deposed tyrant, and they, too, love America and the freedom it has brought the world.
  
Is this surge in patriotism a good thing? Of course it is, friends tell me. I receive patriotic emails expressing support for America and its soldiers; as always, the flags are there, fluttering in a gentle HTML breeze. They may lack solemnity, but in the symbol itself they express the same sentiment as those gracing the steps of marble monuments, those draped over soldiers’ coffins: Liberty was won with the blood of Americans. Your freedom to speak, to criticize, to live as a minority amid a majority–was bought with that blood.
  
But patriotism has a darker side, one that has become quite clear in the last few weeks of war. Now might be the time to consider whether we Americans or Britons really should consider ourselves patriots, or whether defending our ideals and supporting our soldiers can be undertaken in the name of a higher cause.
  
It’s true that patriotism–love and devotion for one’s nation–gives people a shared identity. In the United States, for instance, settlers from all over Europe gradually came to see themselves as a single, distinct group of people. Though their nation was built, at first, on the exclusion and genocide of indigenous tribes and black slaves, today even many Native Americans and African Americans proudly declare their American-ness.

Patriotism may be necessary to build a nation, but sometimes it grows too quickly, becoming cancerous. The example always mentioned is Nazi Germany. Suffering amid a massive economic depression, hungry for their former glory, the German people turned to a charismatic leader who promised prosperity, power, and revenge–first against the Jews, and then against all of the nation’s “enemies.” Adolf Hitler brought his country to ruin, but he could not have emerged without the obsessive patriotism of ordinary Germans, whose love of country reached such a feverish pitch that they began to value German ways over all other ways, German life over all other life.

The United States has not reached that level of love-turned-hate, but it has come close. Today, things are looking grim once again. Patriotism of a rather pernicious kind is enshrined in the U.S. PATRIOT Act, legislation that has stripped away many of the protections that U.S. citizens once had from the power of big government. It also appears in the protect-America-at-all-costs policy of detaining foreign prisoners of war in Guantanamo Bay, Cuba–without charge, without trial, and far from any eyes who could judge whether they’re being treated fairly. At the root of these policies are two disturbing beliefs. One is that love of America demands giving up the very thing that America is supposed to be about–liberty. The other is that people elsewhere in the world do not deserve the rights or respect that Americans do. It’s the same sentiment that in the past allowed Americans in the majority to enslave African Americans, drive indigenous people from their lands, persecute union workers or put Japanese Americans in camps: They are not “American,” and so they are not worthy of the same treatment as we are.

Since the war in Iraq began, the uglier face of patriotism has been popping up on a daily basis. Consider the recent behavior of our fearless public watchdog, the mainstream news media. Throughout this war, public reaction–or just fear of public reaction–has prompted many news outlets to silence their own dissenting voices. This is obvious in American news channels like CNN, FOX, and MSNBC, where the coverage has been dramatically more partisan than what you find on the BBC–or even CNN International. Those who have tried to buck the trend have been punished outright: At MSNBC, liberal talk show host Phil Donahue was canned after news executives complained in an internal memo that his show could become “a home for the liberal anti-war agenda at the same time that our competitors are waving the flag at every opportunity.”

Supporters of patriotism say that Americans must suffer the rollback of civil liberties and the censorship of dissenting voices now so that they can enjoy their freedom once the fighting is over. But it is not clear what freedom we will have left to enjoy, if the present course of government action continues.
  
More importantly, it’s not clear that Americans will make themselves any safer by alienating the rest of the world with a belligerent self-love. I should be clear here: There were many good reasons for the United States and Britain to overthrow a murderous tyrant like Saddam Hussein. The problem with the present war is that the United States entered it in violation of international law, with the public support of only a single Arab government, and without the backing of the United Nations. This kind of arrogance has radicalized Muslims around the world, who see the war as a war against Islam, and will likely cause more grief for the United States in the years to come. Meanwhile, America continues to lose the real “war against terrorism”–the battle over the hearts and minds of people in other countries, especially Muslim countries.

To win that war, we will need more than tanks and cruise missiles. We will need a sustained effort to change how other people in the world see the United States. The first step is for people here to understand why people in Saudi Arabia and Egypt and Indonesia think the way they do about America. Sadly, many otherwise decent and patriotic Americans cannot put themselves in the shoes of people who are enraged by the U.S. government’s policies. They insist that their country is the world’s savior, because only it has the will to fight tyranny abroad (as the case of Iraq proves). But elsewhere in the world, many people see George W. Bush as a greater threat to peace than Saddam Hussein.
  
Some people look at this resentment abroad and conclude that foreigners are simply jealous of American power. Even if this has some truth to it, many Americans don’t realize how many good reasons people in other countries have to be suspicious of the U.S. government. We seem to be the only people in the world who do not appreciate the fact that the U.S. government’s rhetoric of “liberation” too often masks cold self-interest. Just look at the history of U.S. interventions in Panama, Guatemala, Nicaragua, South Vietnam, East Timor, and Laos, or the support that the U.S. government has given to authoritarian and brutal regimes in the Middle East (Saddam’s included, up until his invasion of Kuwait).
  
Americans are rightfully proud when their soldiers step in to end atrocities in war-ravaged places like Bosnia, but we don’t realize that the United States is the only one fighting wars these days because it is the only one allowed to do so (the U.S. government has explicitly stated that it will allow no country to rival it militarily). Likewise, many Americans talk about how their military defends the rights of people elsewhere in the world, but we don’t appreciate the animosity our armies and military bases create in places like South Korean and Saudi Arabia, where many people despise the presence of foreign soldiers on their land.
  
What makes people in other countries so upset is the assumption behind these policies: America knows what is best for the rest of the world. Some say that this assumption is at the heart of all patriotism. “Patriotism assumes that our globe is divided into little spots, each one surrounded by an iron gate,” said Emma Goldman. “Those who had the fortune of being born on some particular spot, consider themselves better, nobler, grander, more intelligent than the living beings inhabiting any other spot. It is, therefore, the duty of everyone living on that chosen spot to fight, kill, and die in the attempt to impose his superiority upon all others.”
  
Some liberals argue that, properly understood, patriotism encourages dissent. In their view, patriotism is not about doing whatever the government tells you to do, but using your free speech to uphold the ideals of liberty and equality that America was founded upon. Clearly many anti-war protestors believe in this approach. It is surely better than patriotism-as-unquestioning-loyalty, but it is still flawed, Robert Jensen tells us. “Why are human characteristics being labeled as American,” he asks, “if there is nothing distinctly American about them? … At its worst, patriotism can lead easily to support for barbarism. At its best, it is self-indulgent and arrogant in its assumptions about the uniqueness of U.S. culture.”
  
Patriotism has served the United States well in making it a global power, and clearly it was necessary in the beginnings of the republic, to create unity out of a hodgepodge of former British subjects. But nowadays patriotism is past its prime. The United States is no longer a small republic on the shores of the Atlantic; it is the most multinational of nations. It is linked to the rest of the world economically (by the flow of import and export goods) and culturally (by the flow of immigrants, students, and workers). Today, to an ever-increasing extent, whatever helps the rest of the world helps the United States.
  
For this reason, world leaders like the Dalai Lama have called for an end to our old notions of nation vs. nation, “us” vs. “them.” In the past, when countries were independent of one another, “there was a relevance to violence and war,” the Dalai Lama writes. But today, “one-sided victory is no longer relevant. We must work to resolve conflicts in a spirit of reconciliation and always keep in mind the interests of others. We cannot destroy our neighbors! We cannot ignore their interests! Doing so would ultimately cause us to suffer.”
  
Perhaps it is time, then, to move beyond patriotism. Without losing our love for the people, places, and ideals of our unique country, we can begin to see ourselves as citizens of something larger than this. In places around the world, people are already making this journey: as Italians, Spaniards, and Germans increasingly see themselves as part of a unified Europe; as the number of individuals with multiple citizenships multiplies; as more people realize that in a world where everyone’s fates are tied together, love and loyalties can be shared.
  
Becoming a “citizen of the world” does not lessen the sacrifice of the men and women who have fought on behalf of the American flag, to defend American liberties. It extends the blessings of that liberty to new lands; it honors America’s heroes by honoring all of humanity, without prejudice or pettiness. And it preserves the nation, by preserving the world. “We must say goodbye to patriotism,” Jensen writes, “because the world cannot survive indefinitely the patriotism of Americans.”
  
My friend was tortured by his dislike of the pro-war protestors, because he truly wanted to do what was best for his country, the only country he has known. But there are many ways to serve one’s country, and in the end, what might save America is something other than patriotism–something more than patriotism.

Oddly enough, acting in ways that aren’t seen as patriotic may be the best way to help America out of its current international crisis. After all, part of the reason that terrorists are so willing to kill civilians is that they see them as representatives of their hated governments. Dissent reminds the rest of the world that not all Americans agree with the U.S. government’s foreign policy. It says that dislike of America should be directed at specific government policies, not at Americans themselves. It also improves the way that the American people are perceived elsewhere in the world, providing evidence that, yes, Americans are capable of critical thought and concern for the lives of people in other countries.
  
Ultimately, dissent may lead to something even more valuable: a new vision of American power. As the world’s only remaining superpower, America has the privilege to be a leader upon the global stage. Good leaders are not blinded by self-love, nor driven by self-interest. They identify with the group they lead. They see any loss on the part of the group as a loss to their own self. They lead with courage and strength, but also understanding and humility.
  
America’s future–and its future security–is tied to its ability to be that kind of leader. It will have to do a better job of showing other countries that it seeks what is best for the world, even at its own expense. It will need a new kind of patriotism–yes, a love for the people, land, and ideals of America, but an equally deep love and respect for other countries, too. Those who love America and want what is best for it will accept the great task, and the great responsibility, laid before it. Until Americans can accept criticism of their country’s actions abroad, until they can value the lives of Iraqis and Afghans as much as they do Americans, then there will be little hope of a more peaceful and just world.

Victor Tan Chen is In The Fray's editor in chief and the author of Cut Loose: Jobless and Hopeless in an Unfair Economy. Site: victortanchen.com | Facebook | Twitter: @victortanchen