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A health researcher for Public Citizen said Trump's interim CDC director has "no medical or public health background and extremist libertarian views."
After pushing out his own handpicked Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) director, infectious disease expert Susan Monarez, fueling a wave of outraged resignations this week, US President Donald Trump has appointed a loyal acolyte to replace her at Health and Human Services Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr.'s side.
On Thursday, the president tapped one of RFK's top aides as interim CDC director: biotech investor Jim O'Neill, a man with no medical experience but extensive experience profiting from healthcare while working at billionaire GOP megadonor Peter Thiel's venture capital firm, Mithril Capital.
Unlike his predecessor, whose ouster came as she tried to push back against RFK's anti-vaccine agenda, O'Neill fits snugly into the secretary's efforts to restrict access to the Covid-19 vaccine, and potentially ban it outright, as the Daily Beast reported earlier this week.
"A tech investor with no medical or public health background and extremist libertarian views, Jim O'Neill was unfit for the number two position at HHS and manifestly unqualified to lead the CDC," said Dr. Robert Steinbrook, director of Public Citizen's health research group, on Friday.
Just as Kennedy did during his confirmation hearings, O'Neill insisted he was "pro-vaccine," noting that he was "an adviser to a vaccine company." However, this is belied by his record on the subject.
He has championed unproven cures like ivermectin, hydroxychloroquine, and vitamin D supplements to protect against Covid-19, and has accused the CDC under the administration of former President Joe Biden of downplaying the vaccine's dangers while railing against mandates.
O'Neill has also praised Kennedy's response to the measles outbreak that swept across the US earlier this year, during which the secretary downplayed the severity and cast unfounded doubt on the effectiveness and safety of the measles vaccine that had virtually eradicated the disease before vaccination rates began to decline.
"Unlike Susan Monarez," Steinbrook said, "O'Neill is likely to rubber-stamp dangerous vaccine recommendations from HHS Secretary Kennedy's handpicked appointees to the Advisory Committee on Immunization Practices and obey orders to fire CDC public health experts with scientific integrity."
O'Neill melds medical crankery with a Thielite strain of anarcho-libertarianism. He has served on the board of the Seasteading Institute, an organization founded by Patri Friedman, the grandson of the right-wing economist Milton Friedman, who advocates for corporations like Apple and Google to form their own floating cities at sea, which would be governed as corporate "dictatorships" free from the constraints of democratic governance.
That anti-government ethos extends to his views on the healthcare system, which O'Neill says is flawed not because of the rampant profiteering of the private companies that run it, but because it is supposedly not "free market" enough.
In 2014, he advocated for the Food and Drug Administration (FDA) to begin approving drugs for the market without conducting clinical trials to determine their effectiveness. "Let people start using them, at their own risk," he argued, "Let's prove efficacy after they've been legalized."
He has also argued for the government to allow people to sell their own internal organs. This process often results in deteriorating health for the disproportionately poor people who partake.
While working at HHS under the administration of former President George W. Bush, O'Neill also opposed the FDA regulation of companies that use algorithms to perform laboratory tests.
At the time, he was focused on DNA testing products like 23andMe, but a report from the consumer watchdog group Public Citizen says that "a decade after he made this remark, it's clear how dangerous such a concept is," noting that "with the development and proliferation of artificial intelligence, algorithms are omnipresent in the practice of medicine, including in diagnostic tools, medical devices, AI assistants to doctors, and personalized medicine."
In addition to Thiel's ideology, he reportedly brings several conflicts of interest to the CDC director job from his time working at Thiel's venture capital firm.
Accountable.US reported Friday that O'Neill "took money from, helped incubate, or was otherwise linked to at least eight medical industry startups with direct business before the department he could help run."
These include firms he advised, like the pharmaceutical company ADvantage Therapeutics or the National Institutes of Health grantee Rational Vaccines, which manufactures herpes drugs.
It also includes four companies seeded by his Thiel-affiliated venture capital firm Breakout Labs, some of which have received government funding or have products awaiting FDA approval.
Though O'Neill agreed to divest from some of these companies and abstain from involvement in decision-making with them as part of his ethics agreement, the report notes that "he did not promise to abstain from decisions involving these companies for the duration of his term, or to abstain from doing business with them after departing HHS."
"O'Neill would be in a prime position to ensure favorable outcomes for several medical industry startups he's been financially linked to that have direct business before HHS and the CDC," said Accountable.US executive director Tony Carrk. "How can American patients be sure that proper vetting of these companies would take place on O'Neill's watch and that public health will be a higher priority over the profits of his former clients?"
Though Steinbrook describes O'Neill as "manifestly unqualified" for the position, he said, "No credible public health authority is likely to work for Kennedy, who is dictating the agency's decisions based on whim, not science."
"The only path forward," Steinbrook said, "is for Kennedy to go, which Congress, professional organizations, medical journals, and the public should demand."
Distracted daily by the bloviating POTUS? Here, then, is a small suggestion. Focus your mind for a moment on one simple (yet deeply complex) truth: we are living in a Veblen Moment.
That's Thorstein Veblen, the greatest American thinker you probably never heard of (or forgot). His working life -- from 1890 to 1923 -- coincided with America's first Gilded Age, so named by Mark Twain, whose novel of that title lampooned the greedy corruption of the country's most illustrious gentlemen. Veblen had a similarly dark, sardonic sense of humor.
Now, in America's second (bigger and better) Gilded Age, in a world of staggering inequality, believe me, it helps to read him again.
In his student days at Johns Hopkins, Yale, and finally Cornell, already a master of many languages, he studied anthropology, sociology, philosophy, and political economy (the old fashioned term for what's now called economics). That was back when economists were concerned with the real-life conditions of human beings, and wouldn't have settled for data from an illusory "free market."
Veblen got his initial job, teaching political economy at a salary of $520 a year, in 1890 when the University of Chicago first opened its doors. Back in the days before SATs and admissions scandals, that school was founded and funded by John D. Rockefeller, the classic robber baron of Standard Oil. (Think of him as the Mark Zuckerberg of his day.) Even half a century before the free-market economist Milton Friedman captured Chicago's economics department with dogma that serves the ruling class, Rockefeller called the university "the best investment" he ever made. Still, from the beginning, Thorstein Veblen was there, prepared to focus his mind on Rockefeller and his cronies, the cream of the upper class and the most ruthless profiteers behind that Gilded Age.
He was already asking questions that deserve to be raised again in the 1% world of 2019. How had such a conspicuous lordly class developed in America? What purpose did it serve? What did the members of the leisure class actually do with their time and money? And why did so many of the ruthlessly over-worked, under-paid lower classes tolerate such a peculiar, lopsided social arrangement in which they were so clearly the losers?
Veblen addressed those questions in his first and still best-known book, The Theory of the Leisure Class, published in 1899. The influential literary critic and novelist William Dean Howells, the "dean of American letters," perfectly captured the effect of Veblen's gleeful, poker-faced scientific style in an awestruck review. "In the passionless calm with which the author pursues his investigation," Howells wrote, "there is apparently no animus for or against a leisure class. It is his affair simply to find out how and why and what it is. If the result is to leave the reader with a feeling which the author never shows, that seems to be solely the effect of the facts."
The book made a big splash. It left smug, witless readers of the leisure class amused. But readers already in revolt, in what came to be known as the Progressive Era, came away with contempt for the filthy rich (a feeling that today, with a smug, witless plutocrat in the White House, should be a lot more common than it is).
What Veblen Saw
The now commonplace phrase "leisure class" was Veblen's invention and he was careful to define it: "The term 'leisure,' as here used, does not connote indolence or quiescence. What it connotes is non-productive consumption of time. Time is consumed non-productively (1) from a sense of the unworthiness of productive work, and (2) as an evidence of pecuniary ability to afford a life of idleness."
Veblen observed a world in which that leisure class, looking down its collective nose at the laboring masses, was all around him, but he saw evidence of something else as well. His anthropological studies revealed earlier cooperative, peaceable cultures that had supported no such idle class at all. In them, men and women had labored together, motivated by an instinctive pride in workmanship, a natural desire to emulate the best workers, and a deep parental concern -- a parental bent he called it -- for the welfare of future generations. As the child of Norwegian immigrants, Veblen himself had grown up on a Minnesota farm in the midst of a close-knit Norwegian-speaking community. He knew what just such a cooperative culture was like and what was possible, even in a gilded (and deeply impoverished) world.
But anthropology also recorded all too many class-ridden societies that saved upper-class men for the "honourable employments": governance, warfare, priestly office, or sports. Veblen noted that such arrangements elicited aggressive, dominant behavior that, over time, caused societies to change for the worse. Indeed, those aggressive upper-class men soon discovered the special pleasure that lay in taking whatever they wanted by "seizure," as Veblen termed it. Such an aggressive way of living and acting, in turn, became the definition of manly "prowess," admired even by the working class subjected by it. By contrast, actual work -- the laborious production of the goods needed by society -- was devalued. As Veblen put it, "The obtaining [of goods] by other methods than seizure comes to be accounted unworthy of man in his best estate." It seems that more than a century ago, the dominant men of the previous Gilded Age were, like our president, already spinning their own publicity.
A scientific Darwinian, Veblen saw that such changes developed gradually from alterations in the material circumstances of life. New technology, he understood, sped up industrialization, which in turn attracted those men of the leisure class, always on the lookout for the next thing of value to seize and make their own. When "industrial methods have been developed to such a degree of efficiency as to leave a margin worth fighting for," Veblen wrote, the watchful men struck like birds of prey.
Such constant "predation," he suggested, soon became the "habitual, conventional resource" of the parasitical class. In this way, a more peaceable, communal existence had evolved into the grim, combative industrial age in which he found himself: an age shadowed by predators seeking only profits and power, and putting down any workers who tried to stand up for themselves. To Veblen this change was not merely "mechanical." It was a spiritual transformation.
The Conspicuous Class
Classical economists from Adam Smith on typically depicted economic man as a rational creature, acting circumspectly in his own self-interest. In Veblen's work, however, the only men -- and they were all men then -- acting that way were those robber barons, admired for their "prowess" by the very working-class guys they preyed upon. (Think of President Trump and his besotted MAGA-hatted followers.) Veblen's lowly workers still seemed to be impelled by the "instinct for emulation." They didn't want to overthrow the leisure class. They wanted to climb up into it.
For their part, the leisured gents asserted their superiority by making a public show of their leisure or, as Veblen put it, their "conspicuous abstention from labour." To play golf, for example, as The Donald has spent much of his presidency doing, became at once "the conventional mark of superior pecuniary achievement" and "the conventional index of reputability." After all, he wrote, "the pervading principle and abiding test of good breeding is the requirement of a substantial and patent waste of time." In Donald Trump's version of the same, he displayed his penchant for "conspicuous consumption" by making himself the owner of a global chain of golf courses where he performs his "conspicuous leisure" by cheating up a storm and carrying what Veblen called a "conspicuous abstention from labour" to particularly enviable heights.
Veblen devoted 14 chapters of The Theory of the Leisure Class to analyzing every aspect of the life of the plutocrat living in a gilded world and the woman who accompanied him on his conspicuous outings, elaborately packaged in constricting clothing, crippling high heels, and "excessively long hair," to indicate just how unfit she was for work and how much she was "still the man's chattel." Such women, he wrote, were "servants to whom, in the differentiation of economic functions, has been delegated the office of putting in evidence their master's ability to pay." (Think POTUS again and whomever he once displayed with a certain possessive pride only to pay hush money to thereafter.)
And all of that's only from chapter seven, "Dress as an Expression of the Pecuniary Culture." Today, each of those now-century-old chapters remains a still-applicable little masterpiece of observation, insight, and audacity, though it was probably the 14th and last chapter that got him fired from Rockefeller's university: "The Higher Learning as an Expression of the Pecuniary Culture." How timely is that?
The (Re)tardiness of Conservatives
As both an evolutionary and an institutional economist (two fields he originated), Veblen contended that our habits of thought and our institutions must necessarily "change with changing circumstances." Unfortunately, they often seem anchored in place instead, bound by the social and psychological inertia of conservatism. But why should that be so?
Veblen had a simple answer. The leisure class is so sheltered from inevitable changes going on in the rest of society that it will adapt its views, if at all, "tardily." Comfortably clueless (or calculating), the wealthy leisure class drags its heels (or digs them in) to retard economic and social forces that make for change. Hence the name "conservatives." That (re)tardiness -- that time lag imposed by conservative complacency -- stalls and stifles the lives of everyone else and the timely economic development of the nation. (Think of our neglected infrastructure, education, housing, health care, public transport -- you know the lengthening list today.)
Accepting and adjusting to social or economic change, unfortunately, requires prolonged "mental effort," from which the leisured conservative mind quite automatically recoils. But so, too, Veblen said, do the minds of the "abjectly poor, and all those persons whose energies are entirely absorbed by the struggle for daily sustenance." The lower classes were -- and this seems a familiar reality in the age of Trump -- as conservative as the upper class simply because the poor "cannot afford the effort of taking thought for the day after tomorrow," while "the highly prosperous are conservative because they have small occasion to be discontented with the situation as it stands." It was, of course, a situation from which they, unlike the poor, made a bundle in an age (both Veblen's and ours) in which money flows only uphill to the 1%.
Veblen gave this analytic screw one more turn. Called a "savage" economist, in his meticulous and deceptively neutral prose, he described in the passage that follows a truly savage and deliberate process:
"It follows that the institution of a leisure class acts to make the lower classes conservative by withdrawing from them as much as it may of the means of sustenance and so reducing their consumption, and consequently their available energy, to such a point as to make them incapable of the effort required for the learning and adoption of new habits of thought. The accumulation of wealth at the upper end of the pecuniary scale implies privation at the lower end of the scale."
And privation always stands as an obstacle to innovation and change. In this way, the industrial, technological, and social progress of the whole society is retarded or perhaps even thrown into reverse. Such are the self-perpetuating effects of the unequal distribution of wealth. And reader take note: the leisure class brings about these results on purpose.
The Demolition of Democracy
But how, at the turn of the nineteenth century, had America's great experiment in democracy come to this? In his 1904 book The Theory of Business Enterprise, Veblen zoomed in for a close up of America's most influential man: "the Business Man." To classical economists, this enterprising fellow was a generator of economic progress. To Veblen, he was "the Predator" personified: the man who invests in industry, any industry, simply to extract profits from it. Veblen saw that such predators created nothing, produced nothing, and did nothing of economic significance but seize profits.
Of course, Veblen, who could build a house with his own hands, imagined a working world free of such predators. He envisioned an innovative industrial world in which the labor of producing goods would be performed by machines tended by technicians and engineers. In the advanced factories of his mind's eye, there was no role, no place at all, for the predatory Business Man. Yet Veblen also knew that the natural-born predator of Gilded Age America was already creating a kind of scaffolding of financial transactions above and beyond the factory floor -- a lattice of loans, credits, capitalizations, and the like -- so that he could then take advantage of the "disruptions" of production caused by such encumbrances to seize yet more profits. In a pinch, the predator was, as Veblen saw it, always ready to go further, to throw a wrench into the works, to move into the role of outright "Saboteur."
Here Veblen's image of the predatory characters who dominated his Gilded Age runs up against the far glossier, more gilded image of the entrepreneurial executive hailed by most economists and business boosters of his time and ours. Yet in book after book, he continued to strip the gilded cloaks from America's tycoons, leaving them naked on the factory floor, with one hand jamming the machinery of American life and the other in the till.
Today, in our Second Even-Glitzier Gilded Age, with a Veblen Moment come round again, his conclusions seem self-evident. In fact, his predators pale beside a single image that he himself might have found incredible, the image of three hallowed multi-billionaires of our own Veblen Moment who hold more wealth than the bottom 160 million Americans.
The Rise of the Predatory State
Why, then, when Veblen saw America's plutocratic bent so clearly, is he now neglected? Better to ask, who among America's moguls wouldn't want to suppress such a clear-eyed genius? Economist James K. Galbraith suggests that Veblen was eclipsed by the Cold War, which offered only two alternatives, communism or capitalism -- with America's largely unfettered capitalist system presenting itself as a "conservative" norm and not what it actually was and remains: the extreme and cruel antithesis of communism.
When the Soviet Union imploded in 1991, it left only one alternative: the triumphant fantasy of the "free market." What survived, in other words, was only the post-Veblen economics of John D. Rockefeller's university: the "free market" doctrines of Milton Friedman, founder of the brand of economics popular among conservatives and businessmen and known as the Chicago School.
Ever since, America has once again been gripped by the heavy hands of the predators and of the legislators they buy. Veblen's leisure class is now eclipsed by those even richer than rich, the top 1% of the 1%, a celestial crew even more remote from the productive labor of working men and women than were those nineteenth-century robber barons. For decades now, from the ascendancy of President Ronald Reagan in the 1980s to Bill Clinton's New Democrats in the 1990s to the militarized world of George W. Bush and Dick Cheney to the self-proclaimed billionaire con man now in the Oval Office, the plutocrats have continued to shower their dark money on the legislative process. Their only frustration: that the left-over reforms of Veblen's own "Progressive Era" and those of President Franklin Delano Roosevelt's New Deal still somehow stand (though for how long no one knows).
As Galbraith pointed out in his 2008 book The Predator State, the frustrated predators of the twenty-first century sneakily changed tactics: they aimed to capture the government themselves, to become the state. And so they have. In the Trump era, they have created a government in which current regulators are former lobbyists for the very predators they are supposed to restrain. Similarly, the members of Trump's cabinet are now the saboteurs: shrinking the State Department, starving public schools, feeding big Pharma with Medicare funds, handing over national parks and public lands to "developers," and denying science and climate change altogether, just to start down a long list. Meanwhile, our Predator President, when not golfing, leaps about the deconstruction site, waving his hands and hurling abuse, a baron of distraction, commanding attention while the backroom boys (and girls) demolish the institutions of law and democracy.
Later in life, Veblen, the evolutionary who believed that no one could foresee the future, nonetheless felt sure that the American capitalist system, as it was, could not last. He thought it would eventually fall apart. He went on teaching at Stanford, the University of Missouri, and then the New School for Social Research, and writing a raft of brilliant articles and eight more books. Among them, The Vested Interests and the Common Man (1920) may be the best summation of his once astonishing and now essential views. He died at the age of 72 in August 1929. Two months later, the financial scaffolding collapsed and the whole predatory system came crashing down.
To the end, Veblen had hoped that one day the Predators would be driven from the marketplace and the workers would find their way to socialism. Yet a century ago, it seemed to him more likely that the Predators and Saboteurs, collaborating as they did even then with politicians and government lackeys, would increasingly amass more profits, more power, more adulation from the men of the working class, until one day, when those very plutocrats actually captured the government and owned the state, a Gilded Business Man would arise to become a kind of primitive Warlord and Dictator. He would then preside over a new and more powerful regime and the triumph in America of a system we would eventually recognize and call by its modern name: fascism.
In February 2018, West Virginia teachers launched a strike that reawakened a movement. Tens of thousands of teachers from around the country have taken part in what is now the largest strike wave in decades, demanding better public education in the face of years of austerity.
The fight for public education reminds us that working-class struggles around the world are linked--and that international solidarity is the key to victory.
On Feb. 11, 2019, as the U.S. wave continued, teachers union leaders from across Africa gathered in Addis Ababa for a meeting of African Union heads of state with their own demands: to halt the continent's moves toward privatized education and provide "inclusive and equitable quality free public education for all."
Though an ocean apart, West Virginia and Addis Ababa are two fronts in the same war. The fight for public education reminds us that working-class struggles around the world are linked--and that international solidarity is the key to victory.
In many U.S. districts, school funding still hasn't recovered from cuts made during the Great Recession. Teachers are underpaid, classrooms are overcrowded, and textbooks are out of date. Rather than increase funding, conservative public figures like Betsy DeVos, Trump's secretary of education, have turned to private and charter schools that deepen inequality and further drain resources from the public system.
At the same time, foreign-owned, for-profit schools like Bridge International Academies and GEMS Education have swept Africa. There is no doubt that the status quo of public education in much of the region is dire: Education systems are largely underfunded, illiteracy remains high, and a large gender gaps prevail. But an unaccountable, profit-driven system funded largely by American and European investors is not the solution. Private schools crowd out the public sector, base education on ability to pay, and exacerbate economic and social stratification.
Investors like Bridge's digital Taylorist curricula, which are identical across all schools, planned down to the minute, and require specialized tablets that track the finger movements of their teachers. However, there's little evidence that such lessons adequately serve poor and working-class students. School privatization in Africa is part of the same neoliberal project that inspired teachers to walk out in West Virginia.
Milton Friedman--free market ideologue, adviser to both Ronald Reagan and Margaret Thatcher, and mentor of the "Chicago Boys"--is considered the founding father of the school choice movement in the United States. It was his brand of market fundamentalism that was then foisted on the Global South in the 1980s, leading to Africa's "lost decade" of growth and the continent's current state of education. International Monetary Fund austerity demands inevitably forced public funding cuts while the World Bank pushed school fees and privatization. The World Bank, along with international aid agencies like the United Kingdom's Department for International Development, continue to promote for-profit models even today.
Philanthrocapitalist Bill Gates has given roughly $10 million to a fund attempting to push Oakland to the "New Orleans" model: full privatization.
In some cases, privatization efforts in the United States and Africa are led by the very same billionaires and corporations. Philanthrocapitalist Bill Gates has given roughly $10 million to a fund attempting to push Oakland to the "New Orleans" model: full privatization. It is no coincidence that Gates is also one of the top funders behind Bridge. Pearson, the controversial education giant of Common Core fame, holds stakes in both Bridge and the comparable Omega Schools in Ghana.
These are more than theoretical ties. These are proof that we are in the same fight.
In 2016, Ugandan courts ruled that Bridge was not adequately licensed to operate and ordered the closure of its 63 schools in the country. Shortly thereafter, 10 Bridge schools were shuttered in Kenya, thanks in part to sustained pressure from the Kenya National Union of Teachers. Ghanaian teachers are now pushing for the same.
Since the beginning of the strike wave in the United States, teachers have won vastly improved contracts, including pay raises and increased school spending, in West Virginia, Oklahoma, Arizona, Colorado, Los Angeles, and Oakland.
Each of these victories is a blow against the global education privatization movement. Each is a material loss for funders like Gates and Pearson, and a political loss for DeVos and her sympathizers at the World Bank. Each builds the power of global union federations like Education International. And each fuels mobilization for further victories.
A court ruling against Bridge International in Kenya is a win against "school choice" in the United States. A teachers' strike in West Virginia is a success for public education in Africa.
The U.S. labor movement must not retreat into economic nationalism, winning material gains for American workers while abandoning those beyond its borders. The workers of the world are a part of the same fight. To win the war, a revitalized Left must transcend borders--building global solidarity not out of altruism, but from an understanding that the struggle of the working class is global.
"Patriotism, in the trenches, was too remote a sentiment, and at once rejected as fit only for civilians, or prisoners." -- Robert Graves, Goodbye To All That (1929).
I'm one of the lucky ones. Leaving the madness of Army life with a modest pension and all of my limbs intact feels like a genuine escape. Both the Army and I knew it was time for me to go. I'd tired of carrying water for empire and they'd grown weary of dealing with my dissenting articles and footing the bill for my seemingly never-ending PTSD treatments. Now, I'm society's problem, unleashed into a civilian world I've never gazed upon with adult eyes.
I entered West Point in July 2001, a bygone era of (relative) peace, the moment, you might say, before the 9/11 storm broke. I leave an Army that remains remarkably engaged in global war, patrolling an increasingly militarized world.
In a sense, I snuck out of the military at age 35, my early retirement an ignominious end to a once-promising career. Make no mistake, I wanted out. I'd relocated 11 times in 18 years, often enough to war zones, and I simply didn't have another deployment in me. Still, I wouldn't be honest if I didn't admit that I'll mourn the loss of my career, of the identity inherent in soldiering, of the experience of adulation from a grateful (if ill-informed) society.
Perhaps that's only natural, no matter how much such a hokey admission embarrasses me. I recognize, at least, that there's a paradox at work here: the Army and the Global War on Terror (GWOT) made me who I now am, brought a new version of me to life, and gifted me (if that's the right phrase for something so grim) with the stories, the platform, and the pain that now make my writing possible. Those military deployments to Iraq and Afghanistan in particular turned a budding neocon into an unabashed progressive. My experiences there transformed an insecure, aspiring dealer-in-violence into someone who might be as near as a former military man can get to a pacifist. And what the U.S. Army helped me become is someone who, in the end, I don't mind gazing at in the mirror each morning.
Should I thank the Army then? Maybe so, no matter the damage that institution did to my psyche and my conscience over the years. It's hard, though, to thank a war machine that dealt so much death to so many civilians across significant parts of the planet for making me who I am. And no matter how much I told myself I was different, the truth is that I was complicit in so much of that for so long.
In a way, I wonder whether something resembling an apology, rather than a statement of pride in who I've become, is the more appropriate way of saying goodbye to all that. Nonetheless, the story is all mine, the burdensome, the beautiful, the banal, and the horrific. War, violence, and bigotry--as I've written--are America's original sins and, looking back, it seems to me that they may be mine as well. In that context, though I'm now officially retired, I think of this as my last piece authored as an active military dissenter--a clearing of the air--before moving on to a life of activism, as well as an unarmed life of words.
What I Won't Be Missing
It's time to wave goodbye to a litany of absurdity that I witnessed in the institution to which I dedicated my adult life. Some peers, even friends, may call this heresy--a disgruntled former major airing dirty laundry--and maybe in some way it is. Still, what I observed in various combat units, in conversation with senior officers, and as a horrified voyeur of, and actor in, two dirty wars matters. Of that, I remain convinced.
So here's my official goodbye to all that, to a military and a nation engaged in an Orwellian set of forever wars and to the professional foot soldiers who made so much of it all possible, while the remainder of the country worked, tweeted, shopped, and slept (in every sense of the word).
Goodbye to the majors who wanted to be colonels and the colonels who wanted to be generals--at any cost. To the sociopaths who rose in the ranks by trampling on the souls of their overburdened troopers, trading lives for minor bumps in statistics and pats on the shoulder from aggressive superiors.
Goodbye to the generals who led like so many lieutenants, the ones who knew the tactics but couldn't for the life of them think strategically, eternally proving the Peter Principle right with every promotion past their respective levels of incompetence.
So long to the flag officers convinced that what worked at the squad level -- physical fitness, esprit de corps, and teamwork--would win victories at the brigade and division level in distant, alien lands.
Farewell to the generals I served under who then shamelessly spun through Washington's revolving door, trading in their multi-starred uniforms for six- and seven-figure corporate gigs on the boards of weapons manufacturers, aka "the merchants of death" (as they were known once upon a distant time), and so helped feed the unquenchable appetite of the military-industrial beast.
Farewell to the senior generals, so stuck in what they called "their lane" that they were unwilling (or intellectually unable) to advise civilian policymakers about missions that could never be accomplished, so trapped in the GWOT box that they couldn't say no to a single suggestion from chickenhawk militarists on the Hill or in the Oval Office.
Goodbye to the devotees of American exceptionalism who filled the Army's ranks, stalwart evangelists of a civic religion that believed there was a secret American inside every Arab or Afghan, ready to burst forth with the slightest poke from Uncle Sam's benevolent bayonet.
Ciao to staff officers who mistook "measures of performance" (doing lots of stuff) for "measures of effectiveness" (doing the right stuff). I won't miss the gaggles of obtuse majors and colonels who demanded measurable "output"--numbers of patrols completed, numbers of houses searched, counts of PowerPoint slides published--from already overtasked captains and the soldiers they led and who will never learn the difference between doing lots and doing well.
Goodbye to battalion and brigade commanders who already had their hands full unsuccessfully "pacifying" entire districts and provinces in alien lands, yet seemed more concerned with the cleanliness of troopers' uniforms and the two-mile-run times of their units, prioritizing physical fitness over tactical competence, empathy, or ethics.
Godspeed to the often-intolerant conservatism and evangelical Christianity infusing the ranks.
See ya to the generals who lent their voices, while still in uniform, to religious organizations, one of whom even became the superintendent of West Point, and at worst got mere slaps on the wrist for that. (And while we're at it, here's a goodbye wave to all those chaplains, supposedly non-denominational supporters of every kind of soldier, who regularly ended their prayers with "in Jesus's name, amen." So much for church-state separation.)
Farewell to the still-prevalent cis-gender patriarchy and (strangely erotic) homophobia that infuses the ranks of the U.S. military. Sure, "don't ask, don't tell" is a thing of the past, but the Army remains a (straight) boys' club and no easy place for the openly gay, while the president remains intent on banning transgender enlistees. And even in 2019, one in four women still reports at least one sexual assault during her military tour of duty. How's that for social progress?
So long to the adrenaline junkies and power-obsessed freaks atop so many combat units, folks who lived for the violence, the rush of nighttime raids without a thought for their often counterproductive and bloody consequences. It's a relief to leave them behind as they continue--prisoners of counterinsurgency, or COIN, math--to feed the insurgencies the U.S. fights far faster than they kill "terrorists."
Goodbye to officers, especially generals, who place "duty" above ethics.
Sayonara to those who canonize "martyrs" like former commander James "Mad Dog" Mattis, a hero for resigning as defense secretary rather than implement (gasp!) modest troop withdrawals from our endless wars in Syria and Afghanistan. (As for a Pentagon-backed war in Yemen that starved to death at least 85,000 kids, he was apparently fine with that.)
Toodle-oo to the vacuous, "thanks-for-your-service" compliments from civilians who otherwise ignore soldiers' issues, foreign policy, and our forever wars, who never give a thought to placing the country's disastrous conflicts up there with healthcare on anyone's election-year priorities list.
Parting is such sweet sorrow when it comes to the neo-Confederate backgrounds and cheerleading of far too many troopers and officers, to a military academy that still has a Robert E. Lee Road on which you drive from a Lee Housing Area to a Lee Barracks, part of an Army that has named at least 10 of its stateside bases after Confederate generals.
Farewell to rampant Islamophobia in the ranks and the leaders who do so little to counter it, to the ubiquitous slurs about Arabs and Afghans, including "hajis," "rag-heads," "camel jockies," or simply "sand niggers." What a way to win Muslim "hearts and minds!"
Ta-ta to the paradox of hyper-capitalism and Ayn Randian fiscal conservatism among the officers of the nation's most socialist institution, the military. Count me in as sick of the faux intellectuals reading books by economists Friedrich Hayek and Milton Friedman in Iraq or their less sophisticated peers toting around Ann Coulter, Sean Hannity, or Glenn Beck volumes, all the while enjoying their publicly-financed, co-pay-less government healthcare.
Adieu to a military justice system that boots out soldiers who commit "alcohol-related" offenses or "piss hot" for marijuana while rarely investigating the Army's role as a catalyst for their addictions--and so long as well to a discipline-over-treatment model for dealing with substance abuse that's only now beginning to change.
Goodbye to infighting among the Army, Navy, and Air Force over funds and equipment and to those "Pentagon Wars" that prioritize loyalty to your service branch over fealty to the nation or the Constitution.
See you later, when it comes to the predictable opinions of a legion of semi-retired generals on 24-hour cable news who count on their public stature to sell Americans yet more guns and militarism.
So long to the faux-intellectualism of men like former "surge" general David Petraeus and his sycophantic army of "warrior monks" and COINdinistas who have never seen a problem to which slightly improved counterinsurgency tactics wasn't the answer and are incapable of questioning the efficacy of force, intervention, and occupation as ways to alter complex societies for the better.
Farewell to the pride and value military leaders place on superficial decorations--patches and badges and medals--rather than true mission-accomplished moments. (Don't hold your breath waiting for even a single senior commander to ever admit that his forces wasted their time, or worse, during their year-long deployment in one of America's distant war zones.)
Cheerio to the prevailing consensus among U.S. officers that our NATO allies are "worthless" or "weak" because they aren't aggressive enough in taking on certain missions or types of patrols, while fighting and sometimes dying for Uncle Sam's global priorities. (This is the nonsense that led to French fries being banned and "freedom fries" served in the congressional cafeteria after France had the gall to oppose Washington's invasion of Iraq in 2003.)
Goodbye to the colonels and generals who speak at the funeral ceremonies of soldiers they hardly know in order to "rededicate" the mourning survivors to the never-ending mission at hand.
Farewell to the soldiers and officers who regularly complained that the Army's Rules of Engagement were too strict--as if more brutality, bombing, and firepower (with less concern for civilians) would have brought victory--as well as to the assumption behind such complaints that Americans have some sort of inherent right to wage wars of choice overseas.
So long to the chauvinism in the senior ranks that asserts some sort of messianic American right and mission to police the globe, dot it with bases, and give its military men license to strut around the villages and alleyways of sovereign states as if they were their own.
America's servicemen have taken to believing in their own myth: that they really do constitute a special caste above all you measly civilians--and now, of course, me, too. In this way, military men actually reflect a toxic society's values. Few ask why there aren't teachers, nurses, and social workers honored like U.S. military personnel in America's vaunted sports stadiums. True servants--as we soldiers, in my years of service, were so fond of dubbing ourselves--should stick to humility and recognize that there are other, far nobler ways to spend one's life.
And here, finally, is what I can't say goodbye to: a society that's come to value its warriors above all others.
A Farewell Coda
So what should this now-retired Army major make of it all? The inconvenient truth is perhaps very little. It's unlikely that anything I'll write will change many minds or affect policy in any way. In the decade following World War I, when Major General Smedley Butler, the most decorated Marine of his time, took up the pen to expose the ills of American-style corporate warfare, he (unlike me) made a true splash. As today, however, the American intervention machine just rolled on. So what chance does a former Army major have of moving the needle on U.S. militarism?
I'm active now in what little there is of an antiwar movement in this country. That was part of the genius of President Richard Nixon's cynical decision in 1973, following years of large-scale antiwar activity in this country and in the U.S. military itself during the Vietnam era, to end the draft. He replaced a citizen's army with an all-volunteer force. By turning the military into a professional caste, a kind of homegrown foreign legion, rather than a responsibility of every citizen, by transforming its officers into an isolated, fawned-upon caste, he effectively ensured that the public would look elsewhere and that antiwar movements would largely become things of the past.
Maybe it's hopeless to fight such a beast. Still, as the child of a blue-collar, outer-borough New York City family, I was raised on the romance of lost causes. So I hope to play a small role in my version of a lost cause--as a (lonely) response to the pervasive stereotypes of modern American soldiers, of the officer corps, of West Point. I plan on being there whenever the militarists insist that Army types are all politically conservative, all model patriots, all devout "moral" Christians, all... you name it and I'll be there as an inconvenient counterpoint to a system that demands compliance.
And here's the truth of it: no matter what you may think, I'm not alone. There are a precious few other public voices from the forever wars speaking out and--as various supportive texts and emails to me have made clear--more silent dissenters in the ranks than you might imagine.
So count on this: I'll be hoping that more serving officers as well as troops gather the courage to speak out and tell the American public the score when it comes to our brutal, hopeless, never-ending wars. Sure, it's just a dream for now, but what would those at the top of that war system do if the troops, officers, and commanders they've so consciously placed on a pedestal begin doubting, then questioning, then dissenting? That would be a problem for a war machine that, even in the age of AI and drones, still needs its obedient foot soldiers to hump a ruck and patrol a block.
I was, until recently, one of them, the obsequious grunt at the pointy end of the spear fashioned by a warlike government ruling over an apathetic citizenry. But no longer. I'm only 35 and maybe it won't make a difference, but I must admit that I'm looking forward to my second act. So think of this goodbye to all that as a hello to all that as well.
Vietnam came to my attention when I was maybe eleven or twelve, during the last years of the Eisenhower administration.
There must have been some uptick that prompted public anticommunist saber-rattling about what really was already the U.S. war there. My father explained to me what was going on, that the military forces of the Viet Minh, a broad coalition struggling for national independence, led by the Communist Party of Vietnam, had defeated the French army in its seven-year attempt to restore colonial rule after having been displaced by the Japanese, against whom the Viet Minh also fought, during World War II.
After that defeat an international conference--in which the U.S. participated along with Cambodia, the People's Republic of China, France, Laos, the Soviet Union, United Kingdom, the Viet Minh, and the "State of Vietnam," created by France in 1949 as a colonial puppet government--at Geneva in 1954 agreed that Vietnam would be divided temporarily at the 17th Parallel into northern and southern administrative zones and that in 1956 an election would be held to reunify the country. The State of Vietnam, later re-christened the Republic of Vietnam as a US rather than French puppet, rejected the agreement, and the United States did not sign onto it but "took note" of the ceasefire agreements and declared that it would "refrain from threat or use of force to disturb them." In fact, the U.S. openly blocked the agreed-upon reunification election because, as President Eisenhower freely acknowledged, all indications were that Ho Chi Minh, leader of the Viet Minh and Communist Party and a widely revered national patriotic figure, would have won the election. Even as a kid, I was astounded that the U.S. could so blatantly arrogate to itself a right to determine which governments or election outcomes were legitimate in other countries and to depose or impose them unilaterally, including by force and violence up to terror and assassination.
"Even as a kid, I was astounded that the U.S. could so blatantly arrogate to itself a right to determine which governments or election outcomes were legitimate in other countries and to depose or impose them unilaterally, including by force and violence up to terror and assassination."
My dad, responding to my reaction, informed me of the much more general history of U.S. interventionism, partly through introducing me to the story of Smedley D. Butler, former Marine Commandant. Butler's striking 1935 testimony is worth repeating in this political moment:
I spent 33 years and 4 months in active service as a member of our country's most agile military force--the Marine Corps. I served in all commissioned ranks from a second lieutenant to Major-General. And during that period I spent most of my time being a high-class muscle man for Big Business, for Wall Street and for the bankers. In short, I was a racketeer for capitalism. I suspected I was just part of a racket at the time. Now I am sure of it. Like all members of the profession I never had an original thought until I left the service. My mental faculties remained in suspended animation while I obeyed the orders of the higher-ups. This is typical of everyone in the military service.
Thus, I helped make Mexico and especially Tampico safe for American oil interests in 1914. I helped make Haiti and Cuba a decent place for the National City Bank boys to collect revenues in. I helped in the raping of half a dozen Central American republics for the benefit of Wall Street. The record of racketeering is long. I helped purify Nicaragua for the international banking house of Brown Brothers 1909-12. I brought light to the Dominican Republic for American sugar interests in 1916. I helped make Honduras "right" for American fruit companies in 1903. In China in 1927 I helped see to it that Standard Oil went its way unmolested. During those years, I had, as the boys in the back room would say, a swell racket. I was rewarded with honors, medals, promotion. Looking back on it, I feel I might have given Al Capone a few hints. The best he could do was to operate his racket in three city districts. We Marines operated on three continents. (Smedley D. Butler, "America's Armed Forces: In Time of Peace," Common Sense 4 [November 1935])
My father also told me about the 1954 military coup against the legitimately elected government of Jacobo Arbenz in Guatemala. The U.S. government--through the CIA--armed, trained, and funded a military force to overthrow Arbenz and install a brutal military dictatorship, on the claim that Arbenz was soft on communism and, oh by the way, had ended exploitative labor practices from which the US-based United Fruit Company had benefitted.
And he also told me about the joint U.S./British coup in 1953 against Mohammad Mosaddegh, prime minister of the government of Iran, who had had the temerity to propose auditing the books of the Anglo-Iranian Oil Company and limiting the company's control over Iranian oil reserves. The coup installed a brutal dictatorship led first briefly by the military and then until the late 1970s by the repressive, kleptocratic monarchy of the Shah, Mohammad Reza Pahlavi. It was the U.S. imposition of the Shah, and its continuing support of his rule, that gave the 1979 revolution that overthrew him its anti-American character, not any bullshit like opposition to "modernity" or hating us for our freedom.
"It was the U.S. imposition of the Shah, and its continuing support of his rule, that gave the 1979 revolution that overthrew him its anti-American character, not any bullshit like opposition to 'modernity' or hating us for our freedom."
The U.S. remained a dominant political force in Guatemala after the 1954 coup against Arbenz. From the 1960s until well into the 1990s, one military dictatorship after another unleashed death squads and perpetrated massacres of indigenous populations suspected of alignment with the insurgent opposition - all with knowledge and ongoing support of the U.S. government. The more than half century of political and economic destabilization, repression, and terror encouraged and sustained by our government, although seldom discussed in this regard, has much to do with creating the conditions that send Guatemalans northward in desperate, often dangerous pursuit of safety and economic opportunity.
From the late 1950s forward I was old and aware enough to watch U.S. interventionism unfold in real time. The intervention in Vietnam expanded into a genocidal horror that continued until I was in my late twenties, of course. But there were others along the way. Like many progressives here and around the world, we followed the Cuban revolution closely, perhaps with a particular attentiveness because of our family there, and celebrated defeat of the brutal, U.S. backed dictator Fulgencio Batista. I was fourteen when the Bay of Pigs invasion, led by reactionary Cuban exiles, many of them former Batista cronies--and bankrolled, trained and supported by the John F. Kennedy administration--was repulsed by the Cuban military and militias. Less broadly known were the multiple attempts the U.S. made to assassinate Fidel Castro and its support of terrorist acts against the Cuban people, including the 1976 bombing of a Cuban airliner that killed seventy-three people. The U.S. also shielded the bombing's perpetrator, Luis Posada Carriles, from prosecution for that and other crimes until his death last year.
I was sixteen in 1963 when Juan Bosch, the first freely elected president of the Dominican Republic in nearly forty years, was overthrown by a military coup backed by the Kennedy administration. When a popular insurgency was poised to return Bosch to power in 1965, President Lyndon Johnson sent 42,000 US troops to shore up the regime installed by the coup. In 1964 the US backed a military coup in Brazil against the democratically elected government of Joao Goulart, who had, like Bosch, pursued an agenda of mildly egalitarian redistribution. Both Kennedy and Johnson administrations had plotted with the Brazilian right-wing and military to prepare and eventually execute the coup. In its aftermath Brazil was ruled by a murderous military junta until 1985.
The pattern of U.S. interventionism persisted and, if anything, increased in scale during the 1970s. In 1971 the CIA supported and participated in planning a bloody coup against the left-oriented government of Bolivia and installed reactionary Hugo Banzer's military dictatorship. The most blatant and egregious, and bloodiest, intervention during the decade--apart from the on-going carnage in Vietnam--was the 1973 coup against the popularly elected government of Salvador Allende in Chile.
"The pattern of U.S. interventionism persisted and, if anything, increased in scale during the 1970s." The military coup assassinated President Allende and unleashed a regime of extreme repression, death squads and all, and economic plunder and immiseration that beset the country until at least into the 1990s. U.S. corporations and government agencies mounted an open, concerted campaign--employing many of the techniques now on display in Venezuela, e.g., lies, disinformation, terror, economic sabotage--over several years before the coup to destabilize the Chilean economy and undermine the democratically elected government. As Ariel Dorfman and Armand Mattelart demonstrated in their wonderful book, The Empire's Old Clothes: What the Lone Ranger, Babar, and Other Innocent Heroes Do to Our Minds, even Disney and other comic books and cartoons were part of the increasingly bloodthirsty propaganda effort directed against Allende and his Unidad Popular government.
The Chilean coup installed the vicious dictatorship of Gen. Augusto Pinochet, who combined violent political repression and terror with giving control of economic policy to free-market ideologue Milton Friedman and his colleagues from the University of Chicago. Under Pinochet, Chile privatized public goods on a massive scale, became radically more unequal, and was a laboratory for the "Washington Consensus" that imposed austerity and neoliberal "reform" throughout Latin America and much of the rest of the world in the 1980s and 1990s. The misery that regime produced in Latin America eventually led to its repudiation in the "Pink Tide" of leftist governments elected in Venezuela, Bolivia, Brazil, Ecuador, Uruguay, and elsewhere in Latin America in this century.
Two years after the Chilean coup, in 1975, the U.S. and its right-wing allies, particularly in the southern cone of South America, implemented Operation Condor, a clandestine campaign of terror and assassination aimed at leftists, trade unions, and opposition political tendencies throughout the region. Operation Condor was supported by Nixon, Ford, Carter, and Reagan administrations and was a joint effort conducted by US-backed dictatorships in the region, mainly Argentina, Bolivia, Brazil, Chile, Paraguay, and Uruguay. Estimates are that under its aegis as many or more than 60,000 people were killed throughout the hemisphere, including the murder of Orlando Letelier, former Allende government official, along with co-worker Ronni Moffitt at the Institute for Policy Studies, by a car bomb in Washington, DC in 1976. The regional right-wing networks that came together in Operation Condor have persisted, as is reflected in the several joint meetings of ultra-right parties and organizations in Brazil and Venezuela as the campaigns against the governments led by the Workers Party in Brazil and the United Socialist Party of Venezuela intensified over the past decade.
In the late 1970s and 1980s, the U.S. interventionism in Central America that had continued unabated throughout the twentieth century rose to public consciousness and generated a significant protest movement in this country. In 1979, the Sandinista National Liberation Front overthrew the dynastic dictatorship of the Somoza family in Nicaragua. Instructively, the front was named for Augusto Cesar Sandino, who led resistance to the US occupation of the country from 1912 to 1934. The U.S., of course, supported the Somozas' rule until the bitter end, when President Jimmy Carter withdrew official support because of the regime's conspicuous human rights violations.
The Reagan administration, however, intensified "counterinsurgency" efforts in Central America. It waged a proxy war against the Sandinista government in contravention of Congress's specific prohibition and financed it through equally illegal arms sales to the new U.S. enemy, Iran. The U.S. proxy forces in Nicaragua--clustered in four groups of thugs known collectively as the "contras"--also apparently financed their operations via cocaine smuggling, allegedly with CIA support. The Carter administration also supported the right-wing coup in El Salvador in 1979, as well as the military dictatorship it installed, and the U.S., through both Carter and Reagan administrations, continued to bankroll that murderous dictatorship--which mounted atrocity upon atrocity, assassinations and massacres of civilians--and support it with materiel, money, and troops (euphemistically called "advisors") throughout its engagement in a twelve-year civil war against the left and other popular democratic forces. Reagan's architect/liaison to the Nicaraguan contras and the savage Salvadoran right-wing was Elliott Abrams, who recently crawled out of the sewer to serve a similar role for the Trump administration vis-a-vis Venezuela.
"The U.S. is an imperialist power that routinely disregards other nations' sovereignty, often enough violently."
This thumbnail sketch touches on most of the bigger, more dramatic cases of imperialist U.S. interventionism during the Cold War era, but it is schematic. Missing, for example, are the CIA's early 1960s machinations in the overthrow of successive governments in Ecuador, which led to sixteen years of military dictatorship and authoritarian rule; U.S. intervention in the newly independent Congo, including participating in the assassination of former prime minister Patrice Lumumba, or its plotting and participating in the bloody coup against the Sukarno government in Indonesia and subsequent atrocities.
My intention isn't to be exhaustive, only to cut through the fog of historical amnesia that obscures the reality that the U.S. is an imperialist power that routinely disregards other nations' sovereignty, often enough violently. Both Democratic and Republican administrations presume universal U.S. prerogative. It is telling that the U.S. does not recognize the authority of the International Criminal Court (ICC), which prosecutes war crimes, crimes against humanity, and genocide; indeed, Secretary of State Mike Pompeo has denied visas to ICC investigators conducting an inquiry into alleged U.S. war crimes in Afghanistan. From this perspective, it seems ironic, maybe even Freudian, that the U.S. foreign policy establishment in the Clinton administration created the notion "rogue state" to classify other governments it targeted as threats. This history also suggests something of a chickens-coming-home-to-roost quality about Russian interference in U.S. elections.
Considering that history should call for pause as the bipartisan interventionist consensus gears up once again, this time in an effort to topple the legitimately elected government of Venezuela. When I watched U.S. corporate media's straight coverage of what should have been the manifestly absurd spectacle of political unknown--less than 20 percent of the Venezuelan population had heard of him before the US anointed him--Juan Guaido's press conference declaring himself president and then swearing himself in, I couldn't decide whether it was so viscerally appalling because it reflects the extent to which post-Cold War interventionism has been normalized or because it brought to mind the automatically self-justificatory anticommunist interventionism of the pre-Vietnam years. In a matter of days, the media went from describing Guaido first as "the man who proclaimed himself president," then "the man the US recognizes as president," and then "interim president" and the elected president, Nicolas Maduro, as "self-proclaimed."
"History should call for pause as the bipartisan interventionist consensus gears up once again, this time in an effort to topple the legitimately elected government of Venezuela."
Moreover, a rhetoric centering on proclamation of "humanitarian crisis" freezes discussion of the situation in Venezuela on images of the immediate moment, ultimately not much more than captions for the decontextualized visuals, and sidesteps the political issues at stake as well as the origins of the nominal crisis. Absent from the discussion is the fact that the U.S. backed a failed 2002 coup against then second-term elected president Hugo Chavez. Similarly absent are references to other moves from the standard interventionist playbook--efforts to manipulate global commodities markets to reduce prices on key exports (e.g., oil in Venezuela, copper in Allende's Chile); freezing international assets and blockading exports and imports and then blaming the targeted government for economic instability; supporting economic and political sabotage (selective food shortages caused by grocery distributors' holding back shipments and trucking company strikes that paralyze commerce, accompanied by bogus stories of mass starvation). Nor does the overheated discussion uncritically retailed by corporate media from the official US disinformation campaign mention the right-wing opposition's history of openly inciting, provoking, and perpetrating violence, including assassination of United Socialist Party of Venezuela (PSUV) and government officials and activists, not to mention its militant denunciation of the PSUV government's egalitarian social and economic policy initiatives. And, as Max Blumenthal makes clear there is little reason to doubt that the recent countrywide blackout was the result of sabotage. [For credible, more comprehensive alternatives to the mainstream propaganda on Venezuela see here and here.]
We can only hope that the legitimately elected government of Venezuela will be able to withstand this onslaught, and that the U.S. will back away from its saber-rattling. It's a sign of the left's weakness that we can't do much more to affect U.S. policy. Nearly as disturbing as the reality of the U.S. government's disruptive efforts in Venezuela is the fact that the campaign aimed at demonizing and delegitimizing the Maduro government has provoked so little skepticism or protest in this country. In part, that lack of opposition is the product of nearly two decades of steady anti-Chavista propaganda--through Clinton, Bush, Obama, and Trump administrations--and a public discourse that has been primed to accept any outrageous charges aimed at the Bolivarian movement and government.
"Nearly as disturbing as the reality of the U.S. government's disruptive efforts in Venezuela is the fact that the campaign aimed at demonizing and delegitimizing the Maduro government has provoked so little skepticism or protest in this country."
The current effort to topple the Venezuelan government throws into relief another factor that undermines opposition to U.S. adventurism--the extent to which opposition to imperialism has been displaced by concerns with human rights violations or "humanitarian crisis" in debates about U.S. interventionism and the implications of that displacement. Others have examined the ease with which human rights discourse can accommodate imperialist agendas [see, e.g., Jean Bricmont, Humanitarian Imperialism: Using Human Rights to Sell War (Monthly Review, 2007); Samuel Moyn, Not Enough: Human Rights in an Unequal World (Belknap, 2018)]. Characterization of the situation in Venezuela as a humanitarian crisis has depoliticized discussion of the issues at stake there and debate about U.S. response. Thus proposals for a negotiated settlement, presumably with power-sharing, seem a plausible alternative to direct overthrow of the Maduro government. But the conflict in Venezuela doesn't stem from some abstract partisan polarization that could be ameliorated with the assistance of clever political scientists; it's a clash of two fundamentally and diametrically opposed understandings of how and in whose interests Venezuelan society should be organized and governed.
The opposition is rooted in the rabid right-wing and upper classes that have been militantly hostile to all of the social legislation and redistributive policies of the Chavez and Maduro governments. In addition to the failed coup against Hugo Chavez, the right has assassinated numerous local PSUV leaders and made multiple assassination attempts on President Maduro. Like its counterpart in Brazil, the Venezuelan right wing confronted the likelihood that the PSUV government was so popular with the poor and working classes that it was no longer possible to defeat it electorally. In Brazil, that concern led to a constitutional coup that impeached President Dilma Rousseff on trumped up charges and then convicted Workers Party leader and former president Luiz Inacio Lula da Silva, far and away the most popular politician in the country, on bogus corruption charges with what is effectively a life sentence behind bars [see William J. Mello and Altemar da Costa Muniz, "Class Struggle in Brazil: Who Will Defend the Working Class?"(nonsite.org, May 16, 2016); William J. Mello, "Class Struggle in Brazil: The Neoliberal Coup, an Attack on Workers and the Poor" (nonsite.org, July 11, 2018); and Andre Singer, "From a Rooseveltian Dream to the Nightmare of Parliamentary Coup"(nonsite.org, July 18, 2018)].
Humanitarian crisis cannot capture the deep, substantive, zero-sum political-economic nature of the conflict in Venezuela. That characterization seems to warrant a non-ideological call for urgency and compromise, but it is moralistic, not political. Moreover, much of the crisis has a Potemkin quality, produced through what Dan Cohen and Max Blumenthal describe as the "regime change laboratory" of the United States. I discuss below Marcie Smith's important examination of that apparatus and its links to "strategic nonviolence" as the equivalent of a left politics, also disconnected from class and political economy. This is politics that makes use of the symbolic architecture of insurgent social movement action to project an illusion of popular rising against tyranny. (One giveaway of the real focus of the demonstrations is that many of the signs brandished by demonstrators are in English.) Human rights discourse, because it ignores class and political economy, works well with that Potemkin activism, which mimes popular insurgency. For that reason it is important to consider how concern with human rights came to displace the earlier left focus on egalitarian social transformation.
"Humanitarian crisis cannot capture the deep, substantive, zero-sum political-economic nature of the conflict in Venezuela."
As Steve Striffler points out in his timely new book, Solidarity: Latin America and the US Left in the Era of Human Rights, human rights discourse gained currency as a framework for critique of U.S. foreign policy in the 1970s partly because it gave liberals a way to claim moral high ground in criticizing the Nixon administration for its support of horrible dictatorships in Latin America without confronting the imperialist political objectives they shared with Nixon. At the same time, those dictatorships extirpated or drove underground much of the left in the region; therefore, in the absence of a vibrant left with which to align, progressives in the U.S. committed to a politics of international solidarity with Latin America also increasingly were drawn toward human rights discourse. As Striffler indicates, this orientation toward a fundamentally non-political approach to international solidarity would have serious consequences down the line. He stresses the important role the Central America peace movement, and the Committee In Solidarity with the People of El Salvador (CISPES)--which was a committed, ideologically left organization--in particular, played in challenging the Reaganite agenda for the region and even mitigating the carnage the U.S. and its allies were able to perpetrate. He notes as well, however, regarding the broader solidarity movement that "lack of a mass-oriented organization limited the movement's capacity to act with coherence, with focus, or with the kind of political power necessary for changing the fundamentals of U.S.-Latin American relations."
The extent to which human rights discourse has displaced discussion of actual differences of and conflicts over political program also has facilitated military interventionism. What qualify as human rights abuses can be amorphous, and transgressions can exist in the eye of the beholder. How, for instance, does the United States not figure among the world's worst human rights violators with the highest per capita rate of incarceration, a third of its population with no or inadequate access to health care, the most extreme inequality in the world, indefinite incarceration at Guantanamo and elsewhere without due process or trial, extrajudicial killings of American citizens and others around the world? As Striffler argues regarding the emergent mobilization in the U.S. against Pinochet's human rights violations in Chile,
Liberal versions of human rights offered an anti-interventionism that was politically soft, one whose central requirement was that the US government not support military regimes that committed the grossest of human rights violations (in itself a worthy goal). The politics and policies of these regimes, as well as the politics of their opponents, were essentially irrelevant, as were the deeper motivations of the U.S. government and corporations in other parts of the world. This is an anti-interventionism that moves beyond the politics of the Cold War by ignoring it, in effect declaring traditional politics irrelevant and left solidarity obsolete, undesirable, or anachronistic (Solidarity, 117).
In the 1990s, U.S. foreign interventionism took on a new rhetorical patina. During the Cold War, violations of other nations' sovereignty, when justified at all, were cast as noble efforts to "save" the targeted countries from possible communist domination. In the heady moment after the Soviet Union's collapse some in the chattering classes enthused about an openly imperial vision, touting the new "unipolar" world and the US role as "hegemon." George H. W. Bush's 1991 US-led invasion of Iraq seemed to punctuate that enthusiasm. Enforcing human rights emerged over the Elder Bush and Clinton administrations as a high-minded defense of intervention.
For example, alongside exulting in the global hegemon narrative, the Bush administration concocted a hoax--retailed by a fifteen year-old girl who only much later, after the hoax had done its work, was exposed as the daughter of the Kuwaiti Ambassador to the United States and, of course, a member of the royal family--alleging that Iraqi soldiers had removed incubators from a Kuwaiti hospital and let hundreds of babies die. Perhaps the fictitious atrocity was intended to overcome the absurdity that the U.S. was concerned about Iraqi human rights violations in Kuwait in light of the Kuwaiti government's own horrible human rights record. The dead babies hoax was joined by preposterously hyperbolic claims about the power of the Iraqi army that included literal comparisons to Hitler. The corporate newsfotainment industry swallowed and regurgitated all those ridiculous claims hook, line, and sinker, just as they are now doing regarding Venezuela.
Since then, charges of human rights violations have been a standard fig leaf over U. S. military interventionism, in much the same way as the British marched through Africa in the late nineteenth century to stamp out the slave trade and, incidentally, expand an empire. The Clinton administration invaded Haiti in 1994 ostensibly to restore deposed President Jean-Bertrand Aristide, who had been elected with two-thirds of the vote in perhaps the first honest election in the country's history and who embraced a social-democratic program for Haiti. As later became clear, the U.S., while officially supporting Aristide's presidency, supported the coup plotters who deposed him as well [See Nathan J. Robinson, "Haiti's Clinton Problem" (Jacobin, October 22, 2016)]. Tellingly, when the Clinton administration restored Aristide to the presidency, it was with the stipulation that he drop his redistributive program and adopt the austerity regime proposed by the U.S.-backed opponent he'd handily defeated.
The elder Bush and Clinton administrations were instrumental in legitimizing humanitarian interventionism. After the Gulf War, the lame-duck Bush sent 25,000 combat troops to Somalia in support of a U.N. peacekeeping mission; the Clinton administration reduced the troop commitment significantlly but shifted the mission's focus to something more like what would now be called regime change, as U.S. forces turned to pursuit of "fugitive warlord" Gen. Mohammed Farah Aidid. Over his two terms Clinton--again with the assistance of the guide-dog news media--normalized the fundamentally Orwellian notion of "humanitarian bombing" with aerial bombing campaigns and/or missile attacks in Bosnia, Kuwait, Iraq, Afghanistan, Sudan, and Serbia. Some of those campaigns advanced a template for doubling down on humanitarian interventionism by invoking the imperative of stopping genocide as the reason for intervention. As Mahmood Mamdani argues in his important book examining the bases of the early 2000s' Darfur genocide hoax, Saviors and Survivors: Darfur, Politics, and the War on Terror, the genocide charge often is a gambit intended to preempt debate or calls for nuance in analysis or action because the charge implies a moral urgency that renders such calls for judiciousness as effectively complicit with evil. Salacious charges of human rights atrocities function in the same way to undercut debate about military interventionism.
Everyone knows the carnage that the U.S. has unleashed on the world during the George W. Bush, Obama, and Trump administrations, especially but by no means only, in the Middle East and Afghanistan, as well as how the "war on terror" has made permanent war everyday life and underwritten cartoonish characterizations like "failed state," "rogue state," and "axis of evil" that take the place of sober analysis. Jeremy Scahill's Dirty Wars: The World is a Battlefield provides an eye-opening and chilling account of the truly global scope and extent of U.S. interventionism.
Parallel to post-Cold War effusions about a "New World Order" led by the United States as sole superpower, elements of reactionary stab-in-the-back ideology about Vietnam infiltrated popular common sense even among liberals. Reaganites and other rightists had long yearned to purge themselves of the bad taste of defeat in Vietnam, particularly as they convinced themselves that the war was lost not on the battlefield but through the perfidy of spineless politicians and disloyal critics at home. This line--all too reminiscent of German reactionaries' great lie about the causes of defeat in World War I--had been reinforced as common sense through popular culture, e.g., in the Chuck Norris Missing in Action films and Sylvester Stallone's Rambo series in the 1980s, and propagation of the P.O.W./M.I.A. fantasy. Where in the 1970s liberals were likely to understand the lesson of the Vietnam War to be skepticism regarding military intervention, in the Reagan/Bush/Clinton years liberals generated their own sanitized version of overcoming the bad taste of Vietnam line, in the form of calls for national healing.
Part of the liberal posture of judiciousness was a mea culpa for the left's supposed sin of having been antagonistic to the soldiers who returned from Vietnam, despite the facts that a) no substantial evidence exists to support a claim that antiwar protesters assaulted returning GIs and b) it was ultimately the antiwar movement in the military that brought the war to an end (See H. Bruce Franklin, Vietnam and Other American Fantasies and MIA, or Mythmaking in America as well as Jerry Lembcke, The Spitting Image: Myth, Memory, and the Legacy of Vietnam). Franklin and Lembcke discuss how, for example, constant repetition of the lie that antiwar activists spat on returning soldiers in San Francisco has colonized Americans' consciousness to the extent that even veterans whose service records demonstrate that it couldn't possibly have happened to them came to believe that they'd personally had that experience.
"The liberal discourse of healing from Vietnam muddled opposition to the 1991 Gulf War, as it encouraged framing opposition to the war with declarations that it was opponents who really supported the troops, a claim that backhandedly legitimized the right-wing lie about the anti-Vietnam War movement."
A similar, and similarly telling, fiction is that only self-centered hippies and elitist students opposed the war. As Penny Lewis reports in Hardhats, Hippies, and Hawks: The Vietnam Antiwar Movement as Myth and Memory, opinion polls during the war showed that "working-class people were never more likely than their middle-class counterparts to support the war, and, in many instances, they were more likely to oppose it" and that "Johnson and Nixon found their most consistent support among more affluent and educated groups."
The liberal discourse of healing from Vietnam muddled opposition to the 1991 Gulf War, as it encouraged framing opposition to the war with declarations that it was opponents who really supported the troops, a claim that backhandedly legitimized the right-wing lie about the anti-Vietnam War movement by insisting that we take care not to repeat a non-existent earlier transgression. The sensibility underlying that odd "we support the troops" formulation--after all, when do rank-and-file soldiers decide whether or not to make war?--was consistent with representations of the war in late 1980s popular films like "Platoon" (1986) and "Full Metal Jacket" (1987), which focused on the horrors and irrationalities of the war as experienced by soldiers in the field. To that extent, the films could seem to occupy the space of antiwar narratives, but they were actually much closer to the right's stab-in-the-back line. ("The Deer Hunter" and "Apocalypse Now" in the late 1970s had similarly dressed up right-wing narratives about the war in antiwar garb--the former by depicting North Vietnamese soldiers as sadistic monsters and projecting onto them images and practices associated with the U.S. military; the latter by asserting, albeit subtly, at least before release of the extended version, "Apocalypse Now, Redux" with forty-nine minutes cut from the original release that make the point bluntly, that the U.S. failed because the politicians and desk generals didn't have the will to do what was necessary to win. "The Deer Hunter" and "Apocalypse Now" were more powerful as films than the pair from the late 1980s, but the latter films appeared at a moment more generally receptive to rehabilitation of the war.)
Although rumination on the experiences and perspectives of grunt troops in the field gives a sense of capturing the war's most immediate and authentic reality, it obscures the war's purposes, logic and contexts, especially its place in the long pattern of anti-democratic arrogance that has driven U.S. foreign policy against any regimes or movements that indicate greater regard for the well-being of their own citizenries than for U.S. corporate and geopolitical interests. In contrast to the field troops who embody that authenticity, the distant headquarters' commanders appear in those films as clueless bureaucrats and hamstrung, deskbound generals committed to managing a public relations war more than one on the battlefield. This view is essentially the same as the stab-in-the-back story, minus only explicit allegations of betrayal, and that distinction says much about the limits of liberal opposition to U.S. military interventionism in general, particularly in the Cold War and post-Cold War period.
Tellingly, the films dissolve into superficially apolitical hand-wringing about senseless, tragic irrationalities, perverse incentives, and naive, self-defeating good intentions. None of those banalities even acknowledge, much less object to, how that war fit into a pattern of U.S. interventionism. Worse, all that cheap moralism leaves the implication that a more carefully and rationally managed intervention might have been acceptable, perhaps even successful, while not copping to a coherent notion of what success might have been. The imperialist right, never squeamish in its views of the extent of U.S. prerogative, was and remains on hand to fill in clear, and bloody and repressive, standards for both what a better-managed intervention would have been like, what criteria would have defined success, and how it would have been attained. This is one of the ways that liberals can differ from reactionaries only insofar as nominal commitments to civility hold them back from admitting the implications of the actions and policy courses they support. They thus bring to mind Bertolt Brecht's caustic 1935 comparison of liberal anti-fascists to "those who wish to eat their veal without slaughtering the calf. They are willing to eat the calf, but they dislike the sight of blood. They are easily satisfied if the butcher washes his hands before weighing the meat" (Bertolt Brecht, Writing the Truth: Five Difficulties). This is also a helpful perspective to keep in mind when considering the phenomenon of "constitutional coup," which the U.S. and its anti-democratic allies have pursued in recent years against duly elected leftist governments in Paraguay, Brazil and Venezuela. And the Obama administration, lest we forget, backed an old-fashioned coup in 2009 against the elected leftist government of Manuel Zelaya in Honduras.
In the nearly two decades since the September 11, 2001 attacks, sentimental expressions of support for military personnel have become an everyday ritual stifling dissent from militarist foreign policy. Not long after the invasions of Afghanistan and Iraq came the conformist convention of exhortation to make public expressions of support and appreciation for military personnel for "keeping us safe," or "protecting our freedom," when the truth is that U.S. intervention across the globe more likely does exactly the opposite. Then came small gestures of special consideration--e.g., boarding flights early, etc.--and special discounts and perqs in commercial transactions, often enough limiting to military personnel what might have been decent customer service for all. Eventually, that acknowledgment morphed into the ubiquitous, banal "thank you for your service" greeting. The gesture's banality obscures its more deeply insidious character. Some years ago, as my flight approached Orlando, a flight attendant instructed passengers to pull down the shades and turn on the flight attendant call button lights, while she dimmed the cabin lights and read the horrid poem, "It Is the Soldier," which begins "It is the soldier, not the minister, Who has given us freedom of religion," and includes such other gems as "It is the soldier, not the campus organizer, Who has given us the freedom to protest." She then urged us to give a round of applause to acknowledge all the active duty military personnel and veterans on board. I usually keep my head buried in a book during these demands for public display of militarism dressed up as patriotism. Fortunately, in this case the other person in my row seemed just as put off as I was.
"In the nearly two decades since the September 11, 2001 attacks, sentimental expressions of support for military personnel have become an everyday ritual stifling dissent from militarist foreign policy."
It has been chilling to watch as this society has become steadily more militarized since Sept 11. An effect of nearly two decades of war is that a large enough percentage of the population has participated directly in military action in Iraq, Afghanistan or elsewhere--2.8 million individuals (more than in Vietnam) and more than 5.4 million deployments--that shared experience in either invasion or occupation is now a common basis for bonding among random strangers, especially those under forty-five years of age, that is, those with no memory of Vietnam or even Grenada, the Caribbean island nation of 100,000 that the Reagan administration invaded in 1983 to topple a government it didn't like or even George H. W. Bush's 1989 invasion of Panama.
Moreover, the stab-in-the-back lie about Vietnam has become so thoroughly embedded as cultural common sense that, two decades after the Gulf War and phony antiwar films, even President Barack Obama rehearsed a version of the right-wing fantasy in 2012 by asserting that Vietnam veterans had "often been blamed for a war you didn't start when you should have been commended for serving your country with valor...It was a national shame, a disgrace that never should have happened. And that's why here today we resolve that it will not happen again." Obama's speech was part of an effort explicitly intended to rehabilitate the Vietnam War as a worthy and patriotic undertaking (pdf) through honoring and recognizing Veterans. Nor was this a one-off move for Obama. In his "patriotism speech" on the campaign trail, just after he'd secured the nomination in 2008, he complained that
some of those in the so-called counter-culture of the '60s reacted not merely by criticizing particular government policies, but by attacking the symbols, and in extreme cases the very idea of America itself, by burning flags; by blaming America for all that was wrong with the world; and, perhaps most tragically, by failing to honor those veterans coming home from Vietnam, something that remains a national shame to this day.
Increasing militarization and proliferation of an empty, depoliticized human rights discourse, especially as aided by corporate news media that function all too enthusiastically as a steno pool for the State Department and military establishment, have produced a way of thinking and talking about international affairs that never rises above the level of puerile morality plays and Manichaean battles of Good and Evil. Reagan described the Soviet Union as an "evil empire." The George W. Bush administration began with straining to link governments which it opposed to international terror networks. Cuba, Venezuela, Iran, North Korea, Syria have been lumped together with no particular justification. Bush's minions began referring to President Hugo Chavez as a dictator, despite the fact that he was repeatedly re-elected with larger margins than any American president and in elections universally rated among the cleanest and most open in the world. "Dictator" is a pejorative applied to the head of any government the U.S. opposes.
Of course, the corporate media and the liberal chattering class seldom object to aggressive U.S. interventions, military or otherwise, in the affairs of other states on the principle of respecting other nations' sovereignty. Instead, in delineating what it's supposed to mean to be "informed," they reinforce the imperialist--what other term could reasonably apply?--view that reduces the world to a morphing, unstable assortment of global "threats" that the U.S. must manage, contain, neutralize, or overcome. Television commercials for the armed forces that, e.g., tout the U.S. Navy as a "global force for good" or the Marines as "the first to move towards the sounds of tyranny, injustice and despair," [See Smedley D. Butler above] hammer on that same message. A new Air Force ad manages to go a step further and joins militarism with neoliberal feminism and superhero fantasy in celebrating female pilots.
"Of course, the corporate media and the liberal chattering class seldom object to aggressive U.S. interventions, military or otherwise, in the affairs of other states on the principle of respecting other nations' sovereignty."
It was only a matter of time before human rights anti-interventionism would become human rights interventionism. As human rights activism was removed from conventional left projects of social transformation and took on an intentionally apolitical character, it accommodated ever more easily to a tit-for-tat liberal moralism that defines human rights violations in abstract ways that conveniently ignore both the sources of conflict in other countries and domestic U.S. conditions and practices. In the 1990s, allegations of genocide raised the moral stakes of non-intervention. In addition to charges emerging from the wars in the Balkans, human rights advocates' responses to the mass murder of Tutsi people by the Hutu majority government in the Rwandan civil war helped impel toward the transition from anti-interventionist to interventionist human rights ideology. Assertions that the West stood idly by as the Hutu government slaughtered Tutsis and moderate Hutus sparked comparisons to Nazi exterminism and provoked declarations that no similar travesty should ever again be permitted to occur. Suggestions that western inaction stemmed from lack of concern for Africans' suffering only redoubled the sense of righteousness that attached to the indignation.
Genocide thus became the gold standard for justifying demands for intervention in contravention of national sovereignty because, as Mamdani argued regarding Darfur, charging genocide raises the bar of moral urgency to the highest height, from which any skepticism or hesitation is tantamount to criminal complicity. (The genocide charge vis-a-vis western Sudan was ratified by U.S. Secretary of State Colin Powell, who certainly was familiar enough with genocide, given his record in Vietnam and role in retailing the lies that sold George W. Bush's trumped up war on Iraq.) Others may recall as well how curious it was for those with anti-imperialist sensibilities to see Save Darfur activists contemptuously dismiss concerns for Sudanese sovereignty as immoral pettifoggery and demand that the U.S., NATO, or whatever western military force invade western Sudan immediately to stop the purported genocide.
Moral panic completely displaced sober political analysis, and the Save Darfur movement, which was largely propelled by boutique fashion consumption and celebrity endorsement, was a moral panic with little possibility of unpalatable consequences for the righteous. Indeed, Mamdani suggested that an element of the Save Darfur movement's appeal was that it gave Americans a vehicle for acting out antiwar protest without risking hostility for opposing the U.S. wars of aggression simultaneously engulfing Afghanistan and Iraq. Genocide claims appeal also because human rights activism is largely conducted by and through NGOs, which depend on performance-based fundraising, and that in turn requires metrics of atrocity--body counts--to demonstrate both urgency of need and organizational accomplishment. Much interest-group agitation and advocacy proceeds through urging a perspective that glosses over nuance in order to stress the extent and significance of issues or groups advocated for, and that can provide a material springboard for launching moral panic, e.g., as we have seen regarding such issues as sex trafficking and ritual satanic child abuse. And once underway, moral panic warrants cavalier attitudes toward protections like due process, right to confront one's accuser, or national sovereignty. It's not difficult to see how human rights activism can become human rights imperialism, particularly because moral panic eschews consideration of both the concrete sources of conflict and the possible consequences of actions taken in favor of commitment to righteous, and depoliticized, moral urgency. In anthropologist Roger Lancaster's succinct judgment, "Nothing but nothing good can come of this approach. It paves the way for public emotion, not public opinion. It degrades the public sphere and cretinizes the public."
Beginning in the early 2000s a series of highly visible insurgencies erupted in several former republics of the Soviet Union, the Balkans, the Middle East and elsewhere, often lumped together not quite accurately as the "color revolutions" and eventually including the "Arab Spring." These have generally followed similar scripts - large, mediagenic, and militant street demonstrations, generic charges of corruption and authoritarianism, calls for equally generic democracy, and, instructively, many protest signs written in English for consumption by international media. To a more hard-bitten political sensibility many of these eruptions seemed to have a Potemkin quality, in part because a) their complaints and demands were so diffuse, b) they didn't seem clearly rooted in particular sectors of the population, and c) they were so conspicuously directed toward foreign, English-speaking audiences. I couldn't figure out why the New York Times seemed so enthralled with some of them, especially the so-called Arab Spring insurgencies. Then the picture began to clear up.
The object of these insurgencies, or "revolutions," has been "regime change," the familiar nickname--it's really not a euphemism any more--for U.S.-led efforts to topple other governments. As Marcie Smith shows in a powerful forthcoming article, "A False Peace: Gene Sharp, Nonviolence, and Class Struggle," (nonsite.org, April 2019), those color revolutions were largely orchestrated with US assistance, typically from the National Endowment for Democracy, a Reagan era nonprofit created in 1983 to subvert governments around the world, and the Albert Einstein Institution (AEI), a related nonprofit formed the same year and committed to "defending democratic freedoms and institutions; opposing oppression, dictatorship and genocide; and reducing reliance on violence as an instrument of policy." As Smith reports:
Through the 1980s, 1990s, and 2000s, AEI and its affiliates would track, build relationships with, and train nonviolent protesters. AEI did not prioritize fighting dictators in U.S. client states like Saudi Arabia, Zaire, Chile, El Salvador, or Guatemala. Rather, it consistently focused its efforts in countries where political leadership was resisting NATO's geostrategic priorities and/or the privatization-focused economic programs being pushed by the World Bank, International Monetary Fund, and U.S. Treasury: countries like the Soviet Union, Burma, Thailand, Tibet, Yugoslavia, China, Cuba, Venezuela, Iran, and post-collapse Belarus, Ukraine, and Georgia. Most of these target regimes were corrupt and dictatorial to varying degrees; the citizenry had plenty of reason to want change. But always, "the social demands for bread, for work, for effective public services, even for an end to police repression, that drove people into the streets" remained unmet. Rather, where AEI's nonviolent revolution succeeded, the policies of the International Monetary Fund-enforced "Washington Consensus" followed: selling off state assets, deregulating and privatizing state or worker-owned industry, removing price controls, establishing free trade zones, and making cuts to social spending.
Smith recounts an extraordinary history through which U.S. subversion has been staged as a popular-seeming pageantry of protest marches, demonstrations, and calls for democracy, evoking imagistic comparisons to the mass protests of the US civil rights, antiwar and student movements. She tracks that history partly through the career of Gene Sharp, a founder of the Albert Einstein Institution, and widely understood to be a "guru" of nonviolent political resistance. Sharp, she points out, "was compared to Gandhi, praised by progressive heavyweights like Howard Zinn and Noam Chomsky [and] was, in general, viewed as an ally of the downtrodden and a friend of the left."
She argues, however, that Sharp "is better understood as one of the most important U.S. defense intellectuals of the latter twentieth century. Sharp developed his core theories between the 1960s and 1980s at the Center for International Affairs at Harvard, an elite Cold War institute initially co-directed by Henry Kissinger and future CIA chief Robert Bowie, where he worked closely with Nobel prize winning game theorist Thomas Schelling. Sharp held the appointment for thirty years. He advocated for a 'politics of nonviolent action' on the basis of strategy, not sentiment, and his ideas were embedded in a steady, demonstrable commitment to laissez-faire economics and a vanguard neoliberal hostility to the 'centralized state.'"
She elaborates,
With the rise of the Reagan-era foreign policy of communist "rollback," Sharp began promoting "strategic nonviolence" internationally through the Albert Einstein Institution (AEI), which he co-founded with Peter Ackerman, then right hand man to "junk bond king" Michael Milken, and later a Cato Institute board member. With the help of AEI consultant Colonel Robert Helvey, a former Defense Intelligence Agency attache and Dean of the National Defense Intelligence College, AEI trained activists around the world, consistently in countries with administrations opposing the International Monetary Fund, World Bank, and U.S. Treasury-led "Washington Consensus." Sharp's symbolic warfare did not offer opposition activists strategies for organizing toward, winning, and using state power to transform social relations or even invigorate democracy. Rather, it was designed to collapse governments by dissolving the common will that buttresses them. Sharp's nonviolent "ju-jitsu" was effective, distinguishing itself as a powerful weapon of entropy in the U.S. "regime change" arsenal. In the wake of nonviolent regime collapse in places like the Soviet Union and Yugoslavia, life was re-ordered according to the dictates of Wall Street and the City.
It is particularly significant that Smith argues that Sharp, who died in 2018, and the tendency with which he was associated, contributed substantially to shaping the mindset and strategic orientations of the U.S. left during the 1970s and 1980s.
Sharp also had a major impact on the domestic politics of the U.S. left, most importantly through something called Movement for a New Society (MNS), a national activist network started in 1971. Though Sharp was never a member, he was a mentor to MNS founder George Lakey, and his ideas helped form the bedrock of MNS ideology: "revolutionary nonviolence." Echoing Sharp, "revolutionary nonviolence" sought to topple governments through cross-class, consensus-based direct action, called "strategic nonviolence," in order to usher in a decentralized world society. MNS argued that this plan was better than pursuing state power or engaging in class struggle. In the 1970s and 1980s, MNS widely promoted these ideas through then-novel mass activist training programs in the anti-nuclear, peace, environmental, feminist, LGBT, and Central American solidarity movements. MNS disbanded in 1987, but their legacy is far-reaching: strategic nonviolence is the dominant strategy of U.S. protest movements today, and revolutionary nonviolence the strongest ideological tendency, with significant effects on attitudes about the state, class struggle, and political organization and culture.
This perspective on Sharp and the nature of his political involvements is controversial. Many highly regarded progressives who associated with him have denounced Sharp's left critics, claiming that charges linking him, AEI and their activities to U.S. foreign policy interests are ill-intended lies and slander. In 2008 Stephen Zunes assembled 138 signatories--including Zinn, Chomsky, and Daniel Ellsberg--to an "Open Letter in Support of Gene Sharp and Strategic Nonviolent Action" (pdf) that retails such denunciations and allows that, at best, criticisms "represent a gross misunderstanding of the nature of strategic nonviolent action in the struggle for political freedom."
It's understandable that those with personal connections to Sharp and his initiatives would be inclined to think well of and defend them. Yet, Smith's article is deeply researched, carefully argued, and persuasive. It's noteworthy as well that the defenses of Sharp, AEI, and "strategic nonviolent action in the struggle for political freedom" miss the point in an instructive way. Zunes's statement asserts, "The nature of the Institution's work, however, is transpartisan, cutting across political boundaries and conceptions, making its resources available to virtually anyone who is interested in learning about strategic nonviolent action. Providing educational materials and consultation on strategic nonviolent action to particular individuals, therefore, should not be misinterpreted as endorsing their ideological agenda or as evidence of collaboration with any government."
Smith demonstrates that that claim is hardly true in practice: as she points out, the list of regimes targeted for campaigns of "strategic nonviolent action" overlaps far too closely with those on the U.S. hit list. The assertion that "[p]roviding educational materials and consultation on strategic nonviolent actions to particular individuals should not be misinterpreted as endorsing their ideological agenda or as evidence of collaboration with any government" at best is incredibly naive or illustrates, in the spirit of the Brecht quote above, what's wrong with proceduralist liberalism. That people with a history of opposition to U.S. imperialism can take it seriously also illustrates a fundamental problem with a notion of progressive politics that subordinates pursuit of an affirmative vision of social transformation to a belief, which is at the same time technicistic and mystical, that action--or "resistance"--is a politics in itself. Liza Featherstone, Doug Henwood, and Christian Parenti--in their essay titled "Action Will Be Taken: Left Anti-Intellectualism and Its Discontents"--sounded the alarm more than a decade ago about the rise of that tendency in the cultural space that would be occupied by a serious left.
The young troublemakers of today do have an ideology and it is as deeply felt and intellectually totalizing as any of the great belief systems of yore. The cadres who populate those endless meetings, who bang the drum, who lead the "trainings" and paint the puppets, do indeed have a creed. They are Activismists. That's right, Activismists. This brave new ideology combines the political illiteracy of hyper-mediated American culture with all the moral zeal of a nineteenth century temperance crusade. In this worldview, all roads lead to more activism and more activists. And the one who acts is righteous.
"The cadres who populate those endless meetings, who bang the drum, who lead the "trainings" and paint the puppets, do indeed have a creed. They are Activismists. That's right, Activismists."
That turn in part is an accommodation to a history of defeat for a programmatic left. If it's not possible to win anything bold, it's understandable that some who want a better world will be drawn to views that emphasize different standards of success. Smith shows, however, that the notion that nonviolent action is a politics in itself marks the convergence point of naive, purely formalist liberal proceduralism, mendacity, willful self-delusion, self-gratifying moralistic activistism, understandable impatience in the face of clear outrages, and acceptance--intentional or not--of neoliberal capitalism as nature.
As Smith observes, this is a "progressive" activism that is largely blind to political economy and class struggle. It doesn't seriously examine the political and structural conflicts that underlie unrest in the countries toward which activists direct their judgments. It relies on what Lancaster describes as a degraded and cretinized public discourse in which moralistic cliches stand in for analysis. Corruption, for example, is an ambiguous charge, as is tyranny, or state repression; as characterizations, they can depend on perspective and social position - the concrete interests with which one aligns in a particular social order. A presumptive mindset that governments' actions are oppressive and protest demonstrations express popular will reflects the extent to which a fundamentally reactionary anti-statism is embedded in several political tendencies that operate as a left in the United States. Without moorings to definite constituencies or need to consider strategic realpolitik as a constraint on one's own political practice, freelance radicals have little basis for making nuanced, pragmatic judgments about left movements and governments that have to navigate maintaining broad, internally contradictory coalitions while trying not to undermine their larger transformative objectives. Such disconnected radicals often don't grasp the reality that movements actually contesting for and trying to consolidate power and to govern inevitably have to improvise through messiness and contradictions.
That mindset has fueled ultraleft denunciations of the SYRIZA government in Greece for not leaving the Eurozone, despite the massive hardships that move would have imposed on the Greek population and, perhaps more to the point, SYRIZA wouldn't have been able to win if they hadn't pledged not to withdraw. Similar pro forma ultraleft denunciations were directed toward the Workers Party governments of both Lula and especially Dilma Rousseff in Brazil for conciliating capital and toward the Chavista government in Venezuela for cronyism, corruption, and caudillismo. Nominal leftists have attacked Evo Morales on similar grounds for his pursuit of a fourth presidential term. In part this inclination to pontificate is an expression of the arrogance that only ignorance can produce; the absence of sophisticated knowledge and understanding can make for a superficial clarity that facilitates making clean, peremptory judgments. Some western leftists' hyper-judgmental disposition regarding the perceived political inadequacies of leftist governments may partly stem from frustration that those governments don't live up to expectations projected onto them by radicals in the advanced capitalist world hoping for revolutionary inspiration. (Trotskyists, of course, are never satisfied with any movement that actually can attain power.) To some extent also the tendency to judge those governments smacks of a characteristically American presumption that we get to pass judgment on any and every government in the world by standards we propound. That mindset also can play neatly into, even perfume, our own state's imperialist agendas, which, to put it mildly, are never blind to political economy and capitalist class power.
Brazil offers a concrete example of how the left in form, right in essence regime change game plan can work. What became the Potemkin demonstrations against Dilma began as an insignificant student protest against a small increase in bus and train fares, which the right joined and overwhelmed to transform it into an anti-Workers Party/anti-Dilma mobilization. The knee-jerk anti-statist, anti-political party stances embraced at least rhetorically by some social movement activists provided easy portals for the right's entry and takeover. The fantasy of politically pure, spontaneous popular uprising gave cover to the right's systematic efforts to undermine the genuinely popular Workers Party government. Right-wing forces turned the demonstrations into an anti-government campaign driven by their signature charges of corruption. As the demonstrations continued, their reactionary character became clearer; signs in English disclosed one intended audience, and those in Portuguese calling for return of the dictatorship indicated another.
Consistent with Smith's account of how strategic nonviolence campaigns aim to destabilize governments by undermining their legitimacy, the spectacle of the demonstrations left an exaggerated impression of the breadth of the social base those in the streets represented. In both Brazil and Venezuela, the popular governments threatened to become so deeply institutionalized and broadly popular that they'd be nearly invincible electorally. In both cases, generic charges of corruption and militant street demonstrations of dubious origin carried the right's campaigns of destabilization. In Brazil the effects of this campaign were a) to neutralize or immobilize, cast suspicion on or block politically organized sectors from engaging in immediate debates and b) in the longer term to weaken the prevailing mechanisms of political engagement and dispute, as well as the options available for political change. That politics as spectacle and its constant drumbeat of condemnation of the government helped to disorganize politics and create fertile ground for the right. It led to withdrawal of sectors of society that had in the past supported the left, which in turn led to low voter turnout and prompted politically less committed elected officials to flee to political parties outside the Workers Party's coalition. Most of all, in disconnecting politics from concrete issues, it muddled and debased political debate and--along with Dilma's impeachment and Lula's arrest and incarceration--ultimately weakened the political alliance needed to govern.
"Even many of those who consider themselves radicals, while denouncing corporate bias and ideological censorship, assume that progressive political strategy should require pressuring capitalist media to provide a neutral forum for anti-imperialist and anti-capitalist perspectives. They won't; they're on the other side."
The signs in English gave away that those demonstrations were partly intended to discredit the Workers Party government in U.S. public opinion. And, as with the similar but more violent demonstrations in Venezuela, they were successful at least in clouding the actual issues at stake in the political struggle within the country. The drift of much of the internationally oriented U.S. left away from political economy and toward a reflexive anti-statism also contributed to confusion and misunderstanding here about what was actually going on in Brazil. Since Dilma's removal from office, the government has been on a mission to dismantle the apparatus of social protections the Workers Party had secured and now may even be moving toward a second stage of the coup that will return the country to military rule.
A non-, or perhaps worse, consciously "post"-ideological left in the U.S. can fail to notice class struggle in disruptive or violent politics elsewhere. That myopia no doubt is reinforced by a U.S. politics that is primarily an electoral and interest-group affair and without deep ideological differences between the dominant parties. No matter how much political scientists and the commentariat from which they take their cues go on about the problem of partisan polarization, the putative remedy of bipartisanship gives away the reality that the substantive differences in mainstream political debate are incremental, all neatly encompassed within hegemonic neoliberalism. Thus, as Steve Striffler noted in his essay at Common Dreams earlier this week, "Venezuela, US Solidarity, and the Future of Socialism," a left that is both institutionally weak and operates within that hegemonic neoliberal politics can be swayed or immobilized by charges framed on decontextualized proceduralist allegations and depoliticized human rights rhetoric. Because this sort of left is not animated by a vision of socialist transformation and is understandably motivated to move in from the margins of political discourse, its adherents sometimes even join in U.S. propaganda campaigns against demonized governments in the interest of preserving "credibility." I can't count how many entreaties I've received since the 1980s to sign onto some ritual denunciation of purported human rights abuses by governments the U.S. opposed. The rationale has always been the same: if we expect our defenses of left governments or political programs to be taken seriously, we must show that we're even-handed in denouncing abuses. These entreaties beg questions like, "Taken seriously by whom? Credibility in whose eyes?" The answer to those questions can be only the public "conversation" conducted through corporate media by opinion-shaping elites, i.e., credibility in the eyes of the principal architects and propagandists of imperialist interventionism.
The inclination is an artifact of the broader progressive movement's powerlessness and retreat from a coherent vision of social transformation, as is reflected in the commonly expressed call to resist oppression. Smith and Striffler both discuss the problem of a broader U.S. left that has no clear social base or class politics. Not being tied to a particular base or political program encourages seeking to inform and appeal to a diffuse, general population--the "people" or the "public"--as a political approach. And the goal of reaching a diffuse public underwrites concern with gaining or maintaining access to mainstream media, which in turn disposes toward projecting watered-down, moralistic formulations that seem acceptable to liberal sensibilities. In "Ritual Protest and the Theater of Dissent" (nonsite.org, March 3, 2017), Virginia Hotchkiss examines this phenomenon's perverse impact on protest and mass demonstrations as a form of political expression. Her description of the emergence of an industry that facilitates formulation of ostensibly insurgent politics as a public relations project tracks closely to Smith's description of Sharp et al.'s "politics of nonviolent action." Cautioning about what she calls "Social Movement, Inc.," Hotchkiss observes:
The politics that inform these actions, where not entirely opaque, are based on a semi-spiritual belief that the right recipe of symbolism, passion, and powerful visuals will inspire significant political action that will alter the course of this or that unjust policy or state of affairs. Organizers want to inspire the people who view their protest images on their phones. To this end, they reach for cliched tropes of earlier social movements to galvanize the imagination of onlookers. They sing the familiar songs, sometimes with their own lyrics added in, and steel themselves in the unimpeachable credentials of social justice saints of yore. In one characteristic overreach, an organizer told a crowd that they were the "Harriet Tubmans" of the environmental movement, freeing people from the slavery of fossil fuels. Historical inspiration belongs in these fights, but an equation with Tubman exposes the delusion of demonstrators who believe they are in the midst of a powerful social movement instead of a tired ritual.
Alongside this myth of the spark that will set the prairie on fire, there is generally the belief that the person targeted, be it a governor, CEO, or even the President, will "do the right thing" if confronted with demonstrations that make a powerful appeal to his or her moral compass. Both "theories of change" rely almost entirely on a media strategy, and thus the steady drift of Social Movement Inc. into PR land.
Even many of those who consider themselves radicals, while denouncing corporate bias and ideological censorship, assume that progressive political strategy should require pressuring capitalist media to provide a neutral forum for anti-imperialist and anti-capitalist perspectives. They won't; they're on the other side. The stubborn belief that corporate media must give opposition voices an honest hearing is an effect of decades of defeat and the incoherence that has resulted from it, including a "left" political imagination whose horizons have retracted to incremental modifications of liberal capitalism. The reality of powerlessness feeds a sense that the exigencies of the moment supersede the need to struggle to build the power necessary for pursuing a transformative agenda. Inability to mobilize mass action in support of unconventional positions--e.g., defense of the PSUV government in Venezuela or its PT counterpart in Brazil against U.S.-backed right-wing attacks--calls forth, simultaneously, public expressions of existentially defiant but politically impotent rhetoric and opportunistic appeals to a moralistic least common denominator like objection to alleged atrocities and human rights violations.
As Striffler makes clear in his essay, that failure is not only one for international solidarity; failure to articulate a clear defense of efforts to build socialism in Venezuela and elsewhere also undermines our own struggle for socialist transformation here.
For a few years now, there has been a tendency to compare Donald Trump to Richard Nixon, but the more urgent comparison in the face of the Venezuelan crisis is one between two well-pedigreed economists: Milton Friedman and Ricardo Hausmann.
Under Nixon's reign, Milton Friedman was the "intellectual" who started to gain excessive power. Friedman was a trained economist, earning a doctorate at Columbia University, with teaching and research stints at the Universities of Chicago and Stanford.
And under Trump, we have another trained economist: Ricardo Hausmann. He received his doctorate from Cornell University and is the director for the Center of International Development at Harvard University.
For years now, Ricardo Hausmann has been suggesting that the solution for Venezuela's socialist "crisis" is a U.S. invasion or "intervention."
What we are seeing in Venezuela is not a sudden rise in the people demanding new leadership by Juan Guiado, a man they just heard of in late January 2019. Rather, this "crisis"--a word that reinforces the illusion of an abrupt disaster--is a careful and hyper-theorized plan that was concocted in the office of a Harvard University professor.
What we are seeing in Venezuela is not a sudden rise in the people demanding new leadership by Juan Guiado, a man they just heard of in late January 2019. Rather, this "crisis"--a word that reinforces the illusion of an abrupt disaster--is a careful and hyper-theorized plan that was concocted in the office of a Harvard University professor. A year ago, Hausmann posted on his own blog a solution that asks the National Assembly to impeach Venezuelan president Nicolas Maduro. His expert suggestion is that "the Assembly could constitutionally appoint a new government, which in turn could request military assistance from a coalition of the willing, including Latin American, North American, and European countries."
Direct violations of Article 2(4) of the United Nations Charter aside, Hausmann openly compares his plan to the U.S. "liberating" Panama in 1989. Do Americans really want to be asked for reparations in 20 years for Venezuela? Currently, the United States is facing such demands for Panamanians with support from the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights (IACHR). Thousands of lives were lost in Panama, countless lives ruined. And Hausmann is asking the United States to repeat this devastation.
Last year was not the first time Hausmann openly spoke of destabilizing Venezuela. In 2014, after Hausmann advocated for Venezuela to default on its loans, the economist was called out by President Maduro for attempting to destabilize Venezuela. It was at this time that Hausmann was given the nickname "academic hitman" by Maduro, who planned to bring legal action against the Harvard professor for speaking on behalf of the agencies that were supporting his well-funded and pro-International Monetary Fund (IMF) research.
Hausmann has been referred to as the informal mentor to Juan Guiado. Indirect might be a better word to describe the mentorship, as there is a middleman between Hausmann and Guiado: Leopoldo Lopez, the leader of Popular Will. It is through Hausmann's mentorship of Lopez (who brought Guiado under his wing and "plotted" his rise to lead the coup) that Hausmann's plans are now coming to action. And, as with Milton Friedman in his time, the relationship between Lopez and Hausmann gives us further insight into the use of academic capital to assert its will and, in turn, gain power.
In 2014, when Maduro arrested Lopez for inciting violence in Caracas, Hausmann got Harvard University to rally behind the anti-socialist agitator and give him an honorary degree from the prestigious institution.
It is this ongoing attempt to bring Venezuela to its knees through the strategic use of highbrow higher education and the formal education of economists that conjures up memories of Friedman's role with Chile. Friedman was able to successfully implement a neoliberal system in Chile by way of Chilean economist Sergio de Castro--whom Friedman trained in a way that Hausmann's training of Lopez echoes.
Both Lopez and de Castro were indoctrinated with ideas rooted in Milton Friedman's 1962 manifesto Capitalism and Freedom, where he states:
"The kind of economic organization that provides economic freedom directly, namely, competitive capitalism, also promotes political freedom because it separates economic power from political power and in this way enables the one to offset the other."
It is this tricky and somewhat contradictory sentence that people across the globe have been duped into believing--that if we have absolute freedom in the marketplace, we will, therefore, have absolute political freedom. Milton carried on with selling the idea that political freedom and economic freedom were somehow separate, but he did so only by intertwining the two. Somehow, divesting the people of public space--everything from schools to forests--for the sake of privatization was not considered a violation of political freedom. And the fact that individuals would be sharing their freedoms with corporations, in addition to the general lack of equity and capital shared by most individuals, got lost in his rhetoric.
The Friedman promise was--and continues to be--so great that absolute faith in the market became commonplace.
The Friedman promise was--and continues to be--so great that absolute faith in the market became commonplace. Hausmann's plan for Venezuela is an inheritance of that faith. But if Hausmann's plans to oust Maduro and bring the IMF into Venezuela are successful, it will not be because of the people's faith in the market; it will be because of the increasing faith held for elite education.
Maduro was right to call Hausmann a "financial hitman" in September 2014. The term alludes to John Perkins' Confessions of an Economic Hitman, 2004 book about professionals who convince underdeveloped nations (Venezuela in Hausmann's case, as well as other countries of the Global South generally) to accept development loans that are designed to benefit the already-elite. Hausmann snapped back at Maduro by calling the president a "tropical thug"--the use of "tropical" here suggests an old-school, Jared Diamond-era geographic bias against the Global South. This attitude might be more easily visible in his own economic theories of "Original Sin" that propose bringing a single currency to emerging markets, leaving them absolutely dependent on the Global North.
In addition to being a "financial hitman," Hausmann could also aptly be described as an "academic hitman," as both Maduro and Bloomberg Business Week have done. For the latter, the power of the academic hitman does not come from the individual's corruptive practices or sales skills. Rather, an academic hitman's power comes from blind faith in education institutions, especially the ones who are open to making bedfellows with development agencies and corporations that have too much to gain from the fall of elected socialist leaders.
Ricardo Hausmann is both an economic and academic hitman, one who is willing to sell off his own birth country--a task Milton Friedman never had to face.
This article was produced by Globetrotter, a project of the Independent Media Institute.
I recently attended a conference at the Niskanen Center. It was a think tank gabfest at which the participants were disillusioned conservatives hoping to chart a course toward a saner political center-right. Jonathan Chait did a near-ecstatic write-up of the meeting and its promise of a conservative movement with fewer XYY chromosomes. Jeet Heer was less optimistic.
"These are but a few of the crackpot nostrums peddled by conservatives in their supposed intellectual golden age."
What impressed me, however, was the elegiac note struck even by those thoroughly disenchanted participants who believed that American conservatism had not been hijacked by know-nothings, but contained the seeds of its own perversion.
They were almost uniformly nostalgic about the early 1980s, when most of them turned to the Republican Party. "Bliss it was in that dawn to be alive. But to be young was very heaven," or so it once seemed to these conservative apostates looking to the past. Back then, there was intellectual ferment on the Right, and the GOP was the party of ideas. But what were those ideas when considered in the cold light of empirical reality rather than soft-focus nostalgia?
Thirty-five years have given us plenty of time to test the truth of the main tenets of the Republican coalition when applied across economics, national security, social policy, and governance. Several of the most significant ideas follow:
Starve the beast. This was a popular rationale for tax cuts (beyond the real, tacit one of further enriching political donors) offered by reigning conservative demigod Milton Friedman. If you reduce revenue, it will force hated Big Government to shrink accordingly. Not only has this scheme never worked out, Republican administrations have expanded the national debt significantly more than Democratic ones.
Tax cuts pay for themselves (or even increase revenue). This absurd myth is still being mouthed by true believers like Paul Ryan, even as he leaves the speakership with an unprecedented record of fiscal failure at a time of a generally good economy.
The crazy implication of this tax-cut theology ought to be that if you cut taxes to zero, revenues will be infinite. This theory and "starve the beast" also achieve the difficult feat of each being completely wrong while flatly contradicting one another. It's like believing simultaneously in the Young Earth Creation and Steady State models of the universe - two contradictory and demonstrably false hypotheses.
Efficient markets hypothesis. Wall Street must, by a Newtonian law of nature, allocate capital and risk in the most efficient manner possible. Therefore, who needs regulations? A glance at the numerous financial panics throughout history ought to have disproved this idea, but Federal Reserve board chairman Alan Greenspan embraced it along with Ayn Rand's other crank notions. In 1999, Brooksley Born, chair of the Commodity Futures Trading Commission, attempted to argue that the near total deregulation of the futures market was a bad idea. Greenspan and the rest of the free-market establishment mowed her down, and so one more cause of the 2008 financial meltdown was set in concrete.
Government is the problem. Uttered by no less than Saint Ronnie, this sentiment is the leitmotiv of conservative thought. Funny, though, it somehow excludes the Pentagon, which consumes more than half the discretionary budget. And it's rarely practiced by those who preach it (many of whom have spent entire careers on the federal payroll). The disproportionately Republican voters of the hurricane belt expect FEMA (an agency that some conservatives otherwise believe exists to put them in concentration camps) to promptly write a check for damage caused by choosing to build in a flood zone. (Personal story: as a budget committee staffer, I got considerable phone traffic from the office of Mississippi Senator Trent Lott about expediting relief when Katrina wiped out the senator's house in Pascagoula). This reflex has become so Pavlovian that residents of Harlan County, KY, severely dependent on federal aid to prevent brute starvation, bitterly denounce government.
The gold standard. What John Maynard Keynes called the barbarous metal is an object of totemic worship by conservatives. Beginning with the Reagan candidacy, it has been a hardy quadrennial in GOP platforms. It is a product of the fallacy of misplaced concreteness: because you can see and touch gold, it represents for some deluded souls an avatar of value more lustrous than real wealth produced by labor.
In reality, the gold standard was only common from the mid-1870s until 1914 (a period characterized by many international panics), and was promptly suspended during World War I, when countries fighting for their lives could no longer afford the luxury of gold theology. Great Britain's postwar attempt to restore the gold standard was a failure, and virtually all countries abandoned the classic gold standard during the Depression, opting for a hybrid gold-exchange standard which itself collapsed in 1971.
Look at any conservative website, though, and advertisers are usually hawking overpriced gold coins; half-baked schemes to reinstate the gold standard frequently appear even in "respectable" conservative publications. President Trump has advocated the gold standard. Given his recent reverse-Midas touch with the stock market, be very afraid.
Run government like a business. This chestnut is rarely questioned, although a moment's thought proves it fallacious. Businesses sell products to customers for profitable revenue. Government is a citizens' compact to provide a gamut of services from policing to disease research to protecting land held in common to national defense, all financed by taxes. Government officials must obey governmental and constitutional rules; they are not autocratic CEOs who run their firms as they see fit.
The analogy is even more strained given that Republicans often seem to choose Enron as their governance model. In line with its mantra that government doesn't work, the GOP sets out to make it a self-fulfilling prophecy by adopting an exploitative rather than public service model. The merger of government with predatory business practices has now reached a culmination in the Trump administration, where everything from the location of the FBI headquarters to the security of the Middle East hinges on the private and opaque financial interests of the Trump Organization.
Law and order/personal responsibility. In the 1980s and 1990s, the GOP styled itself the Party of Personal Responsibility: "no defining deviancy down!" as scolds like Bill Bennett incessantly reminded us. Republican amendments to crime bills competed to be the toughest on crime, with capital punishment preferred. Many liberals called it coded racism, but it ultimately became something even worse: more like the Leninist who-whom principle whereby something is only a crime depending on the political status of the perpetrator.
Sexual harassment ceases to be heinous when potentially committed by a GOP aspirant to office, and we hear a lot these days about how campaign finance violations or even conspiring with an adversarial foreign power are mere "process crimes" if they're even illegal. Once upon a time, crack cocaine abusers deserved life imprisonment and traffickers death; now that opioid abuse is literally destroying a state that Trump carried by 42 percent, the GOP is suddenly all about compassion and the need for treatment.
Authoritarianism good/totalitarianism bad. Back in the early 80s, right-wing talking head Jeane Kirkpatrick caused a stir when she theorized that authoritarian regimes were to be tolerated, even indulged, because somehow they would evolve into democracies. But totalitarian regimes, meaning communist ones, were incapable of spontaneously democratizing and had to be resisted tooth and nail. This notion was prompted by the need to explain U.S. support for regimes like Chile or South Africa, while we opposed ones like Nicaragua. Rather than analysis, it was basically arbitrary labeling: four legs, good, two legs bad.
The fall of the Berlin Wall was massive disproof of the theory, but so are subsequent events: there is no consistent pattern to the transformation of either so-called authoritarian regimes or totalitarian states into democracies - or to the now-frequent backsliding of democracies into despotism.
There have never been rational criteria for U.S. obsequiousness toward feudal tyrannies like Saudi Arabia while we remain unremittingly hostile to Iran, which at least has something resembling a parliament. Trump, as usual, has carried Kirkpatrick's scheme to a bizarrely ironic conclusion: he prefers authoritarian rulers like Recep Erdogan or Mohammed bin Salman to democratic leaders responsible to their legislatures.
Blame America First/liberals hate America. This dogma got its legs when - again - Jeane Kirkpatrick pontificated that those critical of US foreign policy just wanted to "blame America first." It culminated in the common post-9/11 belief that anyone skeptical of the existence of WMD in Iraq hated America. But like many beliefs (voter fraud, "class warfare," etc.), it contains a massive dose of psychological projection. American conservatism is steeped in a cultural pessimism that sees our best days behind us, with America forever ruined by minorities, foreigners, and socialists (and sometimes uppity women).
Likewise, conservative economists like James M. Buchanan were never comfortable with American democracy, and felt the need to ring-fence billionaires' property rights against it. Fundamentalists see secular society as irredeemably sinful; those who are Christian reconstructionists want to overturn the Constitution in favor of theocracy. NRA-style gun nuts posit a sacred right to armed insurrection and overthrow.
Examples of this mentality include Jerry Falwell saying America got what it deserved on 9/11 (because: gays) and a legion of Trump apologists rationalizing that collusion with a hostile foreign power is harmless - or maybe, by means of Republican alchemy, even a higher act of patriotism.
These are but a few of the crackpot nostrums peddled by conservatives in their supposed intellectual golden age. While movement eggheads like Milton Friedman seem like hopelessly unworldly lunatics (he once posited that we didn't need a Food and Drug Administration because manufacturers would ensure safe products out of market efficiency and the goodness of their hearts - yeah, sure they would), they prevailed over time.
The infiltration and dominance of the Republican base by religious fundamentalists, whose creed is magic thinking reinforced by unwavering obedience to accepted authority, helped metastasize this syndrome of dogmatic illogic. It was also boosted by the rise of an integrated, conservative media-entertainment complex, whose non-stop, nation-blanketing repetition of falsehoods assisted their popular acceptance.
The conservative mainstreaming of pernicious ideas gradually overcame a more cautious postwar American pragmatism, dearly won after the misery of the Great Depression and the horror of World War II. The political movement that started as what Keynes described as the "frenzy [of] some academic scribbler of a few years back" has now, under Donald Trump, become like the children gone savage in Lord of the Flies, heeding not reason but the rattle of bones and the beat of tom-toms.
It's part of the American experience to find yourself in an elevator, in an airplane terminal, or at home, looking at a screen with stock numbers whizzing by, and people yammering about how America is somewhere on the spectrum between wonderful or about to disintegrate because of a 5 percent swing in Boeing or Microsoft stock. How did we get to a national economic conversation that is dominated by chatter on the rise and fall of stocks, when it's just a small part of economic life for most of the 300 million people who live in this country?
It was premised on a notion best epitomized by Milton Friedman that the only social responsibility of a corporation is to increase its profits, laying the groundwork for the idea that shareholders, being the owners and the main risk-bearing participants, ought therefore to receive the biggest rewards.
American-style shareholder capitalism, with its incessant focus on maximizing stock value, started gaining primacy over European/Japanese-style stakeholder capitalism in the 1980s. It was premised on a notion best epitomized by Milton Friedman that the only social responsibility of a corporation is to increase its profits, laying the groundwork for the idea that shareholders, being the owners and the main risk-bearing participants, ought therefore to receive the biggest rewards. Profits therefore should be generated first and foremost with a view toward maximizing the interests of shareholders, not the executives or managers who (according to the theory) were spending too much of their time, and the shareholders' money, worrying about employees, customers, and the community at large.
The economists who built on Friedman's work, along with increasingly aggressive institutional investors, devised solutions to ensure the primacy of enhancing shareholder value, via the advocacy of hostile takeovers, the promotion of massive stock buybacks or repurchases (which increased the stock value), higher dividend payouts and, most importantly, the introduction of stock-based pay for top executives in order to align their interests to those of the shareholders. These ideas were influenced by the idea that corporate efficiency and profitability were impinged upon by archaic regulation and unionization, which, according to the theory, precluded the ability to compete globally.
While tying corporate decision-making and its performance to stock price to incentivize efficient resource allocation and productive transformations sounds superficially attractive, the champions of this theory never bothered to show how these outcomes could be achieved if shareholder capitalism was fully implemented. In fact, the historical experience has been abysmal. GM and GE, to cite two prominent examples, were once poster boys for the success of American capitalism. More recently, they are presumed to be speculative candidates for bankruptcy. They are but a symptom of the bigger problem. And there is a growing skepticism in the ability of American capitalism to deliver on its economic promise of prosperity.
In the 1980s, we were still at the embryonic stages of shareholder capitalism, and American institutional investors aggressively proselytized both domestically and abroad. During that time, when I was working as a fund manager in Japan, Toyota became a particularly prominent target, on the grounds that the company wasn't using its substantial cash pile "productively." The argument was made that the company's management was maximizing their self-regarding interests over shareholder value. Holding onto the cash reserves was thought to be a mistake, lest managers be tempted to make unproductive investments. This despite that fact that by any traditional metric--profitability, market share, sales, return on investments--Toyota remained a remarkably successful company.
Backed by domestic institutions (particularly from their associated companies), Toyota's management resisted the push of the foreign investors like myself, many of whom were leading the charge to distribute the company cash pile to shareholders. Toyota management made the seemingly anachronistic decision that the cash was best retained to invest in future lines and cope with changing market conditions, as well as retaining valuable and skilled employees, who were key to the company's growing productivity and global sales success (even at a cost of some short-term harm to profitability). They also argued that elevating dividend payouts would derogate from needed research and development, which was required to retain the company's edge over global competitors.
Given that Toyota has retained the ranking of most valuable car brand in the world six years running (in fact, number one in 11 of the 13 years in which the survey has been conducted), senior management's strategy appears to have been vindicated. There is stable ownership and decision-making structure. Focus is on enterprise-specific skill development and cultivating capabilities in-house. Toyota consolidates product and its production process planning and ensures that sufficient training and equipment (pertaining to processes required for new products) are provided or developed in-house. It largely finances operations using its internal cash flow. Neither stock buybacks nor high-dividend payouts are the norm. In short, the company has developed a long-term development strategy that fuses innovation with high-quality, sustainable management practices that operate durably at scale for many millions of customers around the world.
By contrast, Professor William Lazonick's seminal study, "Profits without Prosperity," underscores the notion that top-level U.S. executives, whose incentives have been increasingly based on stock-based financial targets, have lost the ability to develop the innovative capabilities of an enterprise. Instead, spurred by the prospect of stock gains, the executives have channeled their focus toward "short-termist" achievement of targets (such as by giving out excessive loans to finance customers' purchases to boost quarterly sales targets, as Detroit's "Big Three" have done repeatedly), increasing share valuations and increasing the variable component of their compensation (via share repurchases). As a result, their enterprises have become financialized, and their balance sheets severely weakened. The shortcomings of the companies that have fallen victim to this trend have been masked by the performance of the company stock, in itself a mirage brought about by financial engineering to boost share prices, as Rana Foroohar has documented in her book, Makers and Takers.
The focus on short-termism has ultimately degraded the financial health of the corporations concerned, as well as cannibalizing future investment opportunities.
The focus on short-termism has ultimately degraded the financial health of the corporations concerned, as well as cannibalizing future investment opportunities. As Lazonick pointed out, in many instances where U.S. executives have resorted to stock repurchases, payouts were well above the net income, and in many cases occurred even when the company wasn't profitable; certainly, there was little correlation to company performance per se. Cash that could be deployed toward creating a better product line has instead been spent on stock buybacks, while the strategy of expanding loans to customers to purchase the underlying product effectively steals from future sales, as well as expanding corporate leverage. Another way companies catered to shareholder capitalism was by selling off capital-intensive, but cash flow-generative businesses, as Jack Welch did when he became CEO of GE and shifted the company focus away from sales of jet engines, nuclear reactors and mining equipment, instead building up GE Capital, which ultimately became another "too big to fail" financial behemoth (and has done much to contribute to GE's deterioration).
Additionally, a deregulated labor market that allows for "costless" hiring or firing ("costless" only from the perspective of management, obviously, not labor) in reality has reinforced this short-termism and further degraded long-term corporate performance. Executives abuse the "benefits" of a largely deregulated labor market to sack workers with impunity, thereby generating the "free" cash flow that can be used instead for share repurchases, even as the company loses valuable labor expertise, which can generate future production bottlenecks.
One must also question the notion that the stock market is an efficient gauge of corporate performance, especially when management is prone to what Professor Bill Black calls "control fraud." There is an asymmetry of information between corporate insiders and institutional shareholders, which means that putting a "price" on managerialism so as to discipline them if the management engages in unproductive investments is a fantasy. Exposed to the harsh light of reality, this is an especially absurd idea that only an economist could love, given the divergent time frames between institutional investors monitored on the basis of quarterly performance versus executives who must make investment decisions, the results of which may not be established for years. This is exacerbated by the ludicrous notion that dilettante fund managers, relatively unschooled in anything (other than MBA degrees that propagate concepts like maximizing shareholder value), could possibly be superior judges of corporate performance and allocators of capital against those who have literally learned the business from the factory floor up.
In the "downsize and distribute" regime of American shareholder capitalism, the labor force is downsized, certain operations are discontinued, and the cash retrieved from these processes is distributed rather than retaining and reinvesting in developing the productive capabilities. American executives have proven all too willing to disgorge cash annually on buybacks at the expense of identifying the investments in organization and technology that were needed to remain competitive in the industry in which they operated. In contrast to Germany or Japan, real engineering has been replaced by financial engineering. This is what the doctrine of "shareholder value" has actually delivered: unproductive share buybacks, which manipulate short-term share price performance, even as it derogates from long-term research and development, engenders persistent short-termism in corporate decision-making, and induces value extraction, rather than value creation. All of this financial vandalism has created multiple economic crises, long recessions, growing inequality and decades of stagnant incomes for the average American worker. Shareholder value in truth has created no real value at all.
This article was produced by Economy for All, a project of the Independent Media Institute.
This is an abridged version of a paper that will appear in the March 1, 2019 special issue of Real-World Economics Review.[1]
The much-awaited report from the U.N.'s top climate science panel describes the enormous gap between where we are and where we need to be to prevent dangerous levels of global warming. The 2015 Paris climate accord committed industrial nations to reduce their emissions sufficiently to keep global temperatures within a 2degC rise over pre-industrial levels. In the final accord, highly vulnerable island nations and faith communities represented at the UN pressed the authors to include the 1.5degC limit as an aspirational target in the final draft of the accord with 2degC as the backup target.
Soaring GHG emissions over the past five years, rising atmospheric CO2 concentrations, ice-cap retreats, intensified storms, summer forest fires reaching even above the Arctic circle, and die-offs of the world's coral reefs have all raised concerns about what even a little bit more warming would bring. Parts of the planet including the Arctic and many inland areas, have already warmed beyond 1.5degC. California is on fire most of the year. The worst hurricanes are twice as severe (more precipitation, slower passage, greater wind speeds) as they used to be. This is just a short start. Climate breakdown occurring much more quickly than expected is one reason why climate scientists now think that the goal just five years ago of limiting warming to 2degC "increasingly seems disastrous in this context."[2] The Paris pledges were never sufficient even to keep warming below 3degC let alone 2degC. Few of the signatories have even managed to meet the low bars they set for themselves and he world's largest countries including China, the U.S., and Canada have us on track to a 4-5degC warming. As CO2 concentrations continue growing, preventing runaway warming is going to require ever deeper, truly draconian cuts in emissions, which will mean greater economic disruption. IPCC estimates already show us needing to achieve a near vertical drop in emissions in the early 2020s. Every day we delay getting off of fossil fuels increases the probability that we won't be able to save ourselves.
The 2018 IPCC special report painted a stark portrait of how quickly the planet is heating up and called on governments to take immediate steps to suppress emissions:
If emissions continue at current rate, atmosphere will warm by as much as 2.7deg Fahrenheit, or 1.5deg Celsius, above preindustrial levels by between 2030 and 2052. Further, warming is more extreme further inland of large water bodies. [To keep temperatures from rising beyond 1.5deg degrees] anthropogenic CO2 emissions [must] decline by about 45% worldwide from 2010 levels by 2030 . . . [This] would require rapid and far-reaching transitions in energy, land, urban and infrastructure (including transport and buildings), and industrial systems. . . . These systems transitions are unprecedented in terms of scale . . . and imply deep emissions reductions in all sectors, a wide portfolio of mitigation options and a significant upswing in those options.[3]
Preventing ecological collapse requires transforming the world economy at a speed and scale that "has no documented historic precedent."[4] What would this take? Myles Allen, Oxford University climate scientist and an author of the report said, "It's telling us we need to reverse emissions trends and turn the world economy on a dime." To prevent 2.7 degrees of warming greenhouse emission must be reduced by 45 percent from 2010 levels by 2030, and by 100 percent by 2050. Use of coal as an electricity source would have to drop from 40 percent today to 1-7 percent by 2050.[5] Drew Shindell of Duke University, another author of the report said: "It would be an enormous challenge to keep warming below a threshold" of 1.5 degrees . . . What might that look like? In part, it would include things such as no more gas-powered vehicles, a phaseout of coal-fired power plants and airplanes running on biofuels," he said. "It's a drastic change," he said. "These are huge, huge shifts . . . This would really be an unprecedented rate and magnitude of change."[6] In response to the report, United Nations Secretary General Antonio Guterres warned world leaders to "Do what the science demands before it's too late."[7]
Given this unprecedented existential crisis one might expect governments would responsibly meet this climate emergency with emergency plans to prevent ecological collapse -- bold proposals for "deep emissions reductions in all sectors," for "far-reaching transitions in energy, land, infrastructure, and manufacturing" and so on. After all, the 2018 IPCC 1.5 C report makes clear that on present trends we could be facing the collapse of agriculture in California, the Great Plains, India, China, and much of Africa along with mass famine, submerging cities, destruction of the world's last forests and worse, possibly as soon as 2040, well within the lifetime of many leaders today and certainly their and our children.
What's more, the solution to our climate crisis is astonishingly simple and doesn't require any new tech breakthroughs. The first step is to stop doing what we're doing: immediately begin shutting down fossil fuel production, stop new drilling, stop producing and registering fossil fuel-powered vehicles, drastically curb air travel, ration fossil fuels, curtail manufacturing and construction. The second step is to force through an immediate transition to renewable energy across the economy (and do what we can to enable this transition around the world).
Yet we hear no bold proposals to meet the challenge from any governments -- not from European socialist parties, not from Canadians or Australians (the leading exporters of the world's dirtiest fuels), certainly not from the Chinese (the world's largest polluters who, moreover, are now abandoning the limits on coal-burning they just imposed last year in order to restore growth in the face of the trade war),[8] let alone from the Trump administration. Trump's response to his own government's prediction of a 4degC warming by 2100 is "the planet's fate is sealed" so we may as well abandon Obama's federa fuel-economy standards for cars and light trucks and "burn baby burn."[9] To the extent we hear any proposals at all, it's just renewed calls for more of the same carbon taxes, the same fantasy tech fixes like carbon capture and storage that have manifestly failed to staunch emissions to date.[10] Why is that?
The reason why no government dares take the obvious steps to save the humans is because no one has come up with a magic fix to suppress emissions without suppressing economic growth and profits. Given capitalism, economic growth and profit maximization must be systematically prioritized over all other considerations including emissions reduction or companies will fail, the economy will collapse, and mass unemployment will be the result: global warming may kill us in the long run but economic collapse will kill us in the short run. This is the ultimate contradiction of capitalism: We have to destroy our children's tomorrows to hang onto our jobs today.
It's a fraud really, a fake. It's just bullshit for them to say: "We'll have a 2C warming target and then try to do a little better every five years." It's just worthless words. There is no action, just promises.
That's why from the very first climate negotiations around the Kyoto Protocol in the 1990s, all efforts to contain emissions have been subordinated to maintaining economic growth. Year after year, decade after decade, for 21 straight years to COP21 at Paris in 2015, UNFCC annual summit negotiations invariably collapsed in failure and acrimony. Despite the pleas of climate scientists, desperate submerging Pacific islanders, Africans, Indians and others who contribute few emissions but suffer disproportionately from global warming-induced drought and crop failures, no industrial nation has been willing to accept binding emissions limits because they all understand that caps would suppress economic growth. As George Bush Sr. infamously told the 1992 Climate summit, "The American way of life is not negotiable." And if America will not accept binding emissions caps, why should China? Facing growing protests over their do-nothing annual summits, the only thing negotiators at Paris could agree on was to stop holding their embarrassing annual farces (henceforth they agreed to meet every five years instead) and contrive another "agreement" in which industrial countries pledged to reduce their emissions somewhat some day but are under no legal obligation to do so -- prompting James Hansen, the world's foremost climate scientist, to complain that,
It's a fraud really, a fake. It's just bullshit for them to say: "We'll have a 2C warming target and then try to do a little better every five years." It's just worthless words. There is no action, just promises. As long as fossil fuels appear to be the cheapest fuels out there, they will continue to be burned."[11]
If there's no magic tech fix then phasing out fossil fuel consumption has to mean shutting down or at minimum, drastically retrenching companies, beginning with the fossil fuel producers like Peabody Energy (coal), Exxon Mobil, Chevron, but continuing down the petrochemical food chain through the fossil fuel dependent industries. After all, it's easy to blame the fossil fuel companies for global CO2 emissions.[12] Environmental groups have focused too narrowly on fossil fuel producers, their pipelines and such, while ignoring the downstream industrial and personal consumers. Not to put too fine a point on it but the oil producers don't burn the oil. We burn the oil producing, processing, transporting and refrigerating food, driving our cars, building our homes, heating and cooling our homes, manufacturing this and that, jetting off on vacations, and so on. Fossil fuels are pervasive. As this table shows, fossil fuel emissions are produced across the entire economy.
Total U.S. Greenhouse Gas Emissions by Economic Sector in 2016
Electricity 28.4%
Industry 22%
Commercial & Residential 11%
Source: EPA
If governments in the industrialized economies had listened to climate scientists in the 1980s and taken steps then to radically suppress emissions, perhaps we wouldn't be in the desperate fix we find ourselves in today. But they didn't. They dithered, stalled, insisted on market "solutions" that were really designed to fail with the result now, after decades of "green captalism," we find ourselves facing an existential crisis that admits of only one proximate solution: state intervention to slam the brakes on emissions by shutting down the emitters. If we're serious about suppressing fossil fuel emissions, then we have to drastically retrench and in some cases completely shut down thousands of downstream fossil fuel-dependent companies in transportation, petrochemicals and plastics, manufacturing, construction,[13] agribusiness, tourism and more in the U.S. alone. In cases like plastics, disposable products and others, we would have to virtually abolish entire industries because there's just no other way to suppress their emissions and make them sustainable.
Three years on from Paris nothing has changed: Soaring emissions, shocking increases in CO2 concentrations, arctic fires and floods notwithstanding, governments, economists, even climate scientists continue to proffer the same old market-based fake solutions: steeper carbon taxes, unproven, impossibly expensive "carbon removal" technologies, and fantastical geoengineering schemes.[14] Everything but the obvious: "deep emissions reductions in all sectors" at "unprecedented speed and scale."
The UN IPCC scientists themselves called for steep increases in carbon taxes, pushing governments "to set a price high enough to spur truly deep as reductions in carbon emissions."[15] This approach is hopelessly untenable. Why? Both cap and trade schemes and carbon taxes grew out of the Reagan-era Milton Friedmanite hostility to government "command and control" and the preference of Reagan, Clinton and subsequent governments for market approaches to all problems. The idea was to incentivize businesses and consumers intead of imposing state-mandated quotas or rationing. The carbon tax idea was straightforward: tax fossil fuels and consumers and companies will seek non-fossil fuel alternatives. As taxed coal-fired power plants and fossil-fuel powered motor vehicles became more costly to operate relative to untaxed (and even subsidized) renewable energy and electric cars, over time coal and gas-fired power plants and petrol-powered motor vehicles would fade from the scene. The theory seemed compelling, even obvious, in the abstract.[16] In the real world, carbon taxes don't work. The whole idea was doomed from the start.[17]
The problem is the economics: If the tax is too light, it fails to suppress fossil fuels enough to help the climate. But if it's heavy enough to really suppress them, then companies and consumers balk and resist the tax -- because without any safety net for businesses and consumers, the entire burden falls on them, so they rationally resist to save profits and jobs. Thus to date, the only carbon taxes that have proven acceptable to governments and the voting public are those which are too light to do the job. More than 40 governments including EU, California and British Columbia have imposed taxes on carbon but none has put more than a trivial dent in emissions.[18] A report from the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD) found that the average carbon price across 42 major economies was around $8 per ton in 2018 (that's equal to 7 cents on a gallon of gasoline) -- "far below the level that the IPCC scientists say is necessary to address climate change."[19] No government will set a price high enough to spur truly deep reductions in carbon emissions because they all understand that this would force companies out of business, throw workers out of work, and possibly precipitate recession or worse. What government wants that?
The carbon tax "blueprint for destroying the world economy"-- Heritage Foundation
Given relentlessly growing emissions, and given the failure of modest carbon taxes to suppress fossil fuel production to date, the desperate IPCC climate scientists called on governments to impose truly draconian taxes -- on the order of $135 to $5,500 per ton, even $27,000 per ton -- whatever it takes to suppress fossil fuel consumption enough to keep global warming below 1.5deg Celsius.[20]
The pro-market Heritage Foundation, not surprisingly, skewered this recommendation arguing that taxing industries by anything like these numbers "would bankrupt families and businesses and trigger a global economic disaster." The IPCC plan, they said is "a blueprint for destroying the world economy."[21] Given capitalism, they're right, of course. In a world of abstract models, the carbon tax strategy works perfectly. But in the real world, with real investors and real employees -- and without a rationally planned, carefully managed wind-down and phase-out combined with guaranteed state support for the investors and guaranteed "just transitions" for the affected workers, the imposition of draconian carbon taxes would bankrupt some of the largest companies in the world, precipitate a stock market crash, throw millions out of work, and most likely "destroy the world economy." Voters intuitively understand this. That's why they just voted down the carbon tax in Washington state. And if voters won't pass Washington's trivial $15 a ton tax (equal to 13 cents on a gallon of gasoline), why would scientists think they would pass a tax of $135 (or $1.20 on the gallon), let alone $5,500 a ton ($48.95 a gallon!)?[22] To ask the question is to answer it. Imposing the entire cost of driving out fossil fuels onto companies and consumers without providing them alternatives and a safety net is hardly a winnable plan. Just the opposite: it's guaranteed to turn people against the whole project.[23] And yet if we don't in effect drive the fossil fuel companies out of business, our goose is cooked. So what to do?
If governments really wanted to suppress emissions they could simply ration fossil fuels like FDR did during WWII when he rationed private consumption to divert maximum supplies to the war effort. They could inaugurate a crash program to phase out fossil fuels. They could simply order America's private companies to shut down private vehicle production and change their production output from fossil fuel vehicles to, say, electric cars, public transit, wind turbines, solar power plants, just as FDR ordered GM, Ford and other companies to stop producing private cars and start producing tanks, bombers, fighter planes, artillery, machine guns, ammunition, just as he ordered Packard to build fighter aircraft and PT boat engines, just as he ordered Chrysler to build diffusers to process uranium for atomic bombs. And so on. FDR's virtual takeover of the commanding heights of American industry during WWII was tantamount to a temporary nationalization but his "command and control" was accepted by labor and capital and it succeeded - brilliantly -- providing the industrial base to win the war.[24]
We would no doubt require the declaration of an emergency comparable to WWII to win the approval of Congress and the American people. WWII certainly qualified as an emergency. Even so, fascism killed tens of millions but it did not threaten the extinction of life on earth. Global warming threatens extinction. Is saving the humans, not to mention the whales, less of an emergency than saving General Motors or Boeing or Apple? If Roosevelt could turn the economy on a dime to meet the emergency of WWII, why can't we do the same today? If we don't organize an emergency industrial shutdown and retrenchment of unnecessary production, superfluous manufacturing, superfluous electricity usage, wasteful over-consumption, nature is going to do it for us in a most unpleasant manner.
Yet today we can't get a fair public debate on the need for state intervention in the economy because since the age of Thatcher and Reagan, Milton Friedman's maxim "capitalism good, government bad" has been the reigning ideology of Republicans and Democrats, Tories and Labour alike. Since the 1980s Friedmanite economists and their Koch-funded think tanks have produced a relentless stream of propaganda "proving" that "command and control" or almost any "government intervention" is "bad" and "can't work."[25] Reagan told us businesses don't want to be ordered about and told what to do like FDR did. They want to be "incentivized." Since the 1980s Republicans and Democrats alike have steadily whittled away and gutted government regulation and control wherever possible,[26] clearing the way for Trump's coup de grace at the EPA this past year. In the process, their "market solutions," like carbon taxes, have completely failed to staunch emissions.
We ecosocialists have a practical answer. We accept the science that to prevent runaway global warming "greenhouse emission must be reduced by 45 percent from 2010 levels by 2030, and by 100 percent by 2050." We agree with the IPCC that this will require "deep emissions reductions in all sectors." We agree that it will require "far-reaching transitions in energy, land, infrastructure, and manufacturing," that it will require "systems transitions" (indeed, more than they imagine). And we understand that this must all be done at "unprecedented speed and scale." "We understand that we desperately need to "do what the science demands before it's too late."
But we also understand that imposing drastic cuts in fossil fuel production has to translate into industrial shutdowns and retrenchments across the economy. There is just no way around this. We reject the carbon-tax-to-collapse scenario. Instead, we propose a strategy of rationally planned, democratically managed, wind-down and phase-out of fossil fuels and a coordinated transition to renewable energy that avoids economic collapse and guarantees reemployment for the affected workers. Our strategy is based on a three-point
An Emergency Plan to meet the Climate Emergency:
1. Declare a State of Emergency to suppress fossil fuel use: Ban all new extraction, ration gasoline and diesel, ban production of new fossil-fuel vehicles. Nationalize the fossil fuel industry to phase it out. We do not call for expropriation. We propose a government buyout at fair value (fair to both owners and society). Nationalization will need to extend beyond fossil fuel producers to dozens or hundreds of industrial fossil-fuel dependent industries from pipelines, refineries, distribution networks to power generation, autos, aviation, petrochemicals, some manufacturing, tourism and others whose business is irreversibly based on fossil fuels and who without a governemnt buyout would be bankrupted.
2. Institute a new federal Public Works Administration-style jobs program (on the model of the Works Progress Administration, Civilian Conservation Core and other programs set up under FDR) to re-employ every worker in the fossil fuel-related industries at equivalent pay and benefits in other useful but low-emission work. Those workers in coal, oil, plastics, toxic chemicals and so on deserve jobs, just not the jobs they have now.
3. Launch an emergency state-directed crash program to phase-in renewable electric generation, replace fossil-fuel powered transportation with electric propulsion, discourage individually-owned vehicles where possible and encourage their replacement with public transit, shared vehicles, bicycles and other non-fossil fuel modes of transportation. Develop emergency plans to retrench industries including air travel, shipping, and other large CO2 emitters. And develop emergency plans to shift from fossil-fuel dependent factory farms to fully organic agriculture.
If fossil fuel companies can't reverse their suicidal growth-to-bust trajectory, then what alternative is there but to nationalize them, socialize them, put them under public ownership to phase them out?[27] We say to Democrats, Republicans, capitalists, and pro-fossil fuel trade unions too, "If you have a better strategy to save the planet, where is it?" As Juliana vs. United States (the Our Children's Trust suit which is now working its way through the courts) contends, the federal government has a responsibility to preserve a habitable planet to maintain "life, liberty, property" for the next generations. The plaintiffs argue that preserving a habitable planet requires that the government immediately begin enforcing strict limits on CO2 emissions, immediately develop plans to phase out of fossil fuel production, and ban all further extraction (Section 7 p. 80ff).
Since the companies can't put themselves out of business, the only way to effect the phase-out of fossil fuels without precipitating economic collapse is for the government to nationalize the companies so we can dismantle them and redeploy their capital and labor with as little economic pain as possible. For too long, the environment has been systematically sacrificed on the altar of profits, jobs -- kicking the can down the road till we kick it and ourselves over the cliff. We can save the fossil fuel industrial complex for few more decades till we collapse, or we can reverse these priorities and save the planet. That's the choice before humanity today.
Of course politicians will holler about the cost. The cost is significant but affordable, a bargain actually. The ten largest American oil and gas companies claim a combined value in 2018 of $968.1 billion (Exxon Mobil is valued at $344.5 billion, Chevron $239 billion, ConocoPhilips $79.3, and the others from $68 to $33 billion).[28] The two major coal companies have trivial net worth (Peabody at $3.6 billion, Arch at $1.5 billion). But the IEA says that in truth, the world's fossil fuel industries are worth a fraction of their claimed value because most of their assets - the oil and gas and coal in the ground -- are fast becoming valueless "stranded assets" as electric utilities and vehicle manufacturers shift to renewable power and because of growing political pressure to "leave it in the ground."[29] Given their looming existential profits crisis, the companies might actually welcome a buyout. But if society is to pay a fair price for those companies, their nominal retail value would have to be discounted by the harm their production has already done to people and planet. On any fair assessment, that would leave these companies owing the government, not the other way around. Yet even at their current retail value, just under a trillion dollars, by the standards of wasted U.S. expenditures, this is affordable. President Trump just gave away $2.3 trillion in tax cuts to the rich this year alone.[30] Just rescinding that inexcusable giveaway would cover the cost of nationalizing the entire fossil fuel producing industry and leave enough left over to buy up the bulk of America's fossil fuel-burning industries as well including Boeing, the major airlines, the American auto industry, the worst polluting chemical industries, and leave billions to spare. Boeing's net worth is $95 billion, the seven largest U.S. airlines have a combined market capitalization of $130 billion, the American auto industry, Ford, GM and Tesla (excluding Chrysler which was bought by Italy's Fiat in 2011), has a combined value of $277 billion, the big dirty three of Dow-Dupont, Monsanto, and 3M combined are worth $225 billion. The government could buy all these companies, even without discounts for their social and environmental crimes, for a paltry $727 billion. Add in the bulk of private and shareholder-owned gas and electric utility sector, 20 companies with a combined market value of $557 billion, and the government could buy up all of America's fossil fuel producers and the bulk of its fossil fuel-burners for $2.26 trillion and still have some pocket money left after rescinding Trump's tax giveaway to the rich.[31]
Further, we could rescind the dozens of other needless tax cuts and handouts to the rich since the days of Reagan. We could impose the fines on the banks that Obama and Trump failed to impose.[32] We could restore the progressive tax structure we use to have before Reagan. And we could use these funds to rebuild our infrastructure, fund the transition to renewables, upgrade and properly fund our destitute public schools,[33] fund a comprehensive health care system for all, properly fund our skinflint Social Security system, and build a decent society. Finally, we can't build a decent society for anyone if we don't gut the imperial war budget (nearly three-quarters of a trillion a year). According to the most recent study, by the end of 2019, the U.S. government will have spent a staggering $5.9 trillion on its illegal criminal wars in Afghanistan, Iraq and Syria since September 11, 2001[34] -- wars that were never fought for democracy and certainly not in for defense since none of those countries attacked us but were, instead, imperial wars to protect "our" oil under "their" sand.[35]
Thus, we categorically reject, in advance, any argument that the government cannot afford to buy out the fossil fuel producers and dependent industries to save the humans. On the contrary, we maintain that even at a retail value of $2.25 trillion, this buyout of fossil fuel producers and burners is a bargain - barely more than a third of what the U.S. has squandered (so far) on its oil wars in the Middle East since 2011.[36] Plus, since the U.S. military is the largest institutional GHG emitter, cutting the military budget would also slash emissions from this sector.
Under capitalism, closing and retrenching companies means throwing workers out on the street. We're socialists. We don't accept that. If capitalists won't provide the jobs then it's the government's responsibility to do so. We, the voting public, assert our ownership of the government, not the corporations. Today we face an existential threat to our survival and the only way to prevent collapse is to slam the brakes on the industries that are destroying us. It's not the workers' fault if the industries they work in need to be closed or cut back to save our children and theirs. They deserve jobs, different jobs, better jobs. If society is going to abolish their present jobs then it owes them new jobs with comparable pay and benefits. This is not only morally right but it's also the only way we can win the support of those workers in the struggle for the common good.
There's no end of low-carbon work that needs to be done: infrastructure repair and upgrades, a vast expansion of renewable energy, transitioning to fully organic farming, a massive expansion of public transit, commuter biking, development of share-vehicle commuting, environmental restoration, housing upgrading, heating and environmental retrofitting, upgrading and improving our schools, expanding medical care, expanding services and facilities for our retired workforce and more. If capitalists can't figure out how to make a profit doing it, then society through our government must employ them - just as FDR's New Deal public works programs of the 1930s built tens of thousands of projects -- dams, electric utilities, airports, highway systems, bridges, tunnels, new railways, gorgeous train stations, glorious city halls and post offices, incredibly beautiful parks, beautiful public schools, modern hospitals, public universities and more.[37] FDR's construction programs built the bulk of this country's national infrastructure that we still rely on today. If in the midst of depression, the government could afford to provide full-time government-funded jobs for tens of millions of workers from 1933 through the 1940s, becoming the nation's largest employer by far, our immensely wealthier society and government can easily afford to re-employ the millions of workers from the fossil fuel-based industries to construct a permanently sustainable economy.
After they wrecked the economy and plunged us into the Great Depression in 1929, America's capitalists couldn't pull themselves together to restore economic growth. In 1932 Franklin D. Roosevelt, campaigning on a state-interventionist, help-the-poor "NewDeal," won a landslide victory over "do-nothing" Hubert Hoover who was deservedly blamed for letting the Depression get as bad as it did and reviled for his failure to intervene to rescue the economy and the citizenry. President Roosevelt turned the government into the biggest economic engine and the biggest employer in U.S. history, creating a state-directed capitalism, organizing a powerful state planning apparatus, setting up federal employment programs, and superintending construction of a the country's first basic social safety net - transformations that that handed him three more landslide victories in 1936, 1940 and 1944. Roosevelt and Congress established the National Resources Planning Board (NRPB) in 1933 to organize public works programs to put people back to work, revive the economy, and modernize our infrastructure. This was the first and so far only national planning agency in U.S. history. It evolved from public works planning to broader social and economic planning and then to mobilize and direct resources for the war effort. Regional planning groups were created in New England and the Pacific Northwest. Most states established planning agencies while planning boards emerged in many cities. Capitalist ideological hostility to economic planning per se - they couldn't stand the threat of a good example -- eventually forced Congress to abolish the national board in 1943. But NPRB legacies included wartime and postwar planning, the first version of the G.I. Bill of Rights, the Second (Economic) Bill of Rights (a manifesto for postwar liberalism), an institutionalized policy planning process via the Council of Economic Advisors, and the annual federal budget process established by the Employment Act of 1946.[38]
The existential crisis we face is, to say the least, far more dire and urgent than the Great Depression. And here again, capitalism has no solution to the crisis it created because the capitalist solution to everything is the same growth that got us into this crisis in the first place. That's why we argue that the only way to brake the drive to collapse is to socialize the commanding heights of the economy. We don't need to nationalize the entire economy. Small producers, worker co-ops, family farmers, mom & pop shops, restaurants and so on, aren't killing the planet. Large corporations are killing the planet. They can't help themselves. To preserve a habitable world we need to take them under public ownership so we can rationalize, reprioritize and restructure production to create a permanently sustainable, if somewhat less industrialized, economy.
It is perhaps concievable, taking FDR's war-emergency industrial reordering as a precedent, that the three-point plan just described for fossil fuels buyout-nationalization, state-directed emergency transition to renewables, and creation of a large federal jobs program, could be enacted within the framework of capitalism, though the result would be a largely state-owned economy. Roosevelt created his state-directed capitalism with only modest, if increasing, ruling class resistance because, first, he revived a broken capitalism from the depths of the worst depression in history and saved it from communism, secondly, he never needed to actually nationalize the industries he effectively took over because he was paying their owners hansomely to expand and grow their companies, if by producing different products, and thirdly, this was all just a temporary encumbrance, limited to the duration of World War II.
We face the opposite problem: We face a booming capitalist economy at the top of its form with a powerful entrenched ruling class in full command of their economy and their state. What's more, we need to nationalize industries not to grow them but to phase many of them out, or at minimum to transform GM from an automaker into, say, a wind-turbine maker or a train manufacturer, and permanently. Given the "unprecedented scale" of the the problems we face, given the "far-reaching transitions in energy, land, urban and infrastructure . . . and industrial systems" we need to make, and given the speed with which we need to make these changes, it's difficult to imagine how this could be done within the framework of any capitalism. Private ownership of the means of production, profit maximization, and market competition have been the leading drivers of global ecological collpase and pose the main barrier to the rational rerorganization, restructuring and reprioritization of the economy we need to make to save the humans. The depth and urgency of our climate crisis cries out for something like an immediate transition to ecosocialism. We don't have many decades left before its too late to bother trying.
The IPCC climate scientists tell us we have just a dozen years or so to rein in our growth-to-bust economic system and come up with an effective pollution-suppression plan and mechanisms to staunch CO2 emissions. Ocean scientists tell us we need a Five-Year Plan to save the oceans.[39] We need global plans to save the oceans, save the forests, save species from going extinct.[40] This requires generalized large-scale economic planning. The problems we face with respect to the environment and the climate, can't be solved by private corporations competing in an anarchic market.[41] Saving the world requires the sort of large-scale economic planning that only governments can do. We need to replace market anarchy with rational planning and management of a mostly, though not necessarily entirely, publicly-owned economy.[42]
Rational planning requires democracy. Polls show that 69% of Americans (85% of those ages 18-29), 71% of Chinese, 87% of Europeans, nine-in-ten Ugandans, Tanzanians, South Koreans, Chileans, and Brazilians want binding limits imposed on CO2 emissions.[43] Corporations don't want binding limits. Well, why don't we get to vote on such questions? We don't need to be experts. Corporate boards aren't composed of experts. They're composed of major investors and politically influential VIPs who solicit experts to advise them, then vote to decide what they want to produce and sell, and hire engineers to figure out how to get it done. Why can't society do the same - but in the interest of the common good? We need to establish democratic institutions to plan and manage our social economy -- planning boards at local, regional, national and international levels. We have plenty of examples from the Paris Commune to Polish Solidarity in 1980. We have the example of FDR's National Resources Planning Board -- established by an elected president and congress. And as Greg Palast and co-authors describe in their book on regulation of public utilities, we have a working prototype right now:
Unique in the world . . . every aspect of US regulation is wide open to the public. There are no secret meetings, no secret documents. individuals, industrial customers, government agencies, consumer groups, trade unions, the utility itself, even its competitors. Any and all citizens and groups are invited to take part: Everyone affected by the outcome has a right to make their case openly...In public forums, open to all citizens, the principles of social dialogue and transparency come to life. It is an extraordinary exercise in democracy-and it works.[44]
We see no reason why this cannot be scaled up to the whole economy. If the major U.S. political parties offer no solution to the climate crisis, if they abdicate their responsibility to preserve a habitable planet for our children, then its up to the American left to provide vision and leadership in this struggle -- and right now that looks to be the DSA, the Democratic Socialists of America (of which I am a proud member). As Maria Swart wrote to members on October 23rd:
Limiting global warming below 2 degrees is going to take a monumental mobilization of people from all walks of life, demanding that our lives matter more than corporate interests. Neither Republicans or Democrats have risen to the task of leading this effort. In the absence of their political leadership, we must rise to the occasion.
Congressional Representative-elect (D. New York) Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez (aka AOC), the self-confident 28 year-old DSAer who won office on the Democratic ticket, has risen to the occasion, drafting a proposed Plan for a Green New Deal that she hopes will be taken up by the new Congress in January 2018. The Plan (and the draft legislation) she writes, shall require the achievement within 10 years from start of excution the following:[45]
AOC's Green New Deal does not stop with decarbonization. She writes that "The Plan . . . shall recognize that a national, industrial, economic mobilization of this scope and scale is a historic opportunity to virtually eliminate poverty in the United States and to make prosperity, wealth and economic security available to everyone participating in the transformation. In furtherance of the foregoing, the Plan (and draft legislation) shall:
To be sure, the process of "decarbonization" outlined above is abstract, lacks specifics, and is far from fully worked out. Most obviously, it's hard to imagine how the government could decarbonize fossil-fuel producers and industrial consumers without taking them into public hands. What's not said is that decarbonization has to translate into shutdowns and retrenchments of actual companies. How does one decarbonize ExxonMobil or Boeing or Delta Airlines or Duke Energy? These companies live and breathe fossil fuels. But there's no mention of shutdowns and retrenchments. There's no mention of buyouts or nationalization. There's no explicit call for a National Planning Board to reorganize, reprioritize and restructure the economy. Further, there's no acknowledgement that an infinitely growing economy is no longer possible on a finite planet. There's no acknowledgement of the imperative need for economic de-growth, substantial de-industrialization and not just in fossil fuel-based industries.
And yet, the audacity and breadth of the technical and socio-economic transformations here envisioned call to mind nothing so much as the economic and social revolution that FDR's New Deal brought about (albeit within the framework of capitalism), and goes beyond him in some respects. Occasio-Cortez may be just 28 but she is a bold, feminist, anti-racist, and socialist-inspired successor to FDR. With this Green New Deal she's taking the global warming discussion to a new level, changing the conversation and challenging the political economy. She's not calling for cap and trade or carbon taxes or divestment or any other market "solutions." She's issuing a full-throated call for "decarbonization," in effect throwing the guantlet down to capitalism and challenging the system because, as we know, there is no way to decarbonize an economy based on endless growth, endless resource consumption, and thus inevitably, endless pollution and CO2 emissions. Thus the push for decarbonization must inevitably raise the question of nationalization because, how else can government enforce the retrenchments and shutdowns needed to save the planet without precipitating economic collapse? The nationalization of the coal and oil producers, the obvious first targets, would in turn raise the question of what to do about all the industries that are based on fossil fuels -- autos, aviation, petrochemicals, plastics, construction, manufacturing, shipping, tourism, and so on. And consideration of how to decarbonize those industries would in turn raise larger questions about who should decide what gets produced, or not -- private companies or society as a whole, through democratic processes. Thus the push for decarbonization is simultaneously a push for democratization.
AOCs' Plan is first of all, a definitive break with the Reagan-Thatcher-Friedman "capitalism good, government bad" doctrine which holds that the best role for governmenti is to "get out of the way and just incentivize the private sector." Instead, the Plan calls for robust expansive government to drive the needed changes, for two reasons: (1) scale and (2) time: First, "The level of investment required will be massive. Even if all the billionaires and companies came together and were willing to pour all the resources at their disposal into this investment, the aggregate value of the investments they could make would not be sufficient." Besides, "private companies are wary of making massive investments in unproven research and technologies; the government, however, has the time horizon to be able to patiently make investments in new tech and R&D, without necessarily having a commercial outcome or application in mind at the time of the investment." Second: "The speed of investment required will be massive. Even if all the billionaires and companies could make the investments required, they would not be able to pull together a coordinated response in the narrow window of time require to jump-start major new projects and major new sectors."
AOC explicitly rejects the Reganite assertion of the superiority of the private sector and the efficacy of incentives: "We've also seen that merely incentivising the private sector doesn't work - e.g. the tax incentives and subsidies given to wind and solar projects have been a valuble spur to growth in the US renewables industry but, even with such investment-promotion subsidies, the present level of such projects is simply inadequate to transition to a fully carbon neutral economy as quickly as needed. . . we're not saying there isn't a role for private sector investments; we're just saying that the level of investment required will need every actor to pitch in and that the government is best placed to be the prime mover."
Secondly, AOC explicity makes a powerful case for state planning: She calls for a new Select Committee "with a 360deg view" to serve the specific function of "examin[ing] emerging issues that do not fit clearly within existing standing committee jurisdictions or cut across jurisdictional boundaries." The Select Committee requires "a mandate to develop a plan for the transformation of our economy to become carbon neutral." Having its own Select Committee "ensures constant focus on climate change as the standing committee deals with that and many other issues of the day -- such as wild fires in California, infrastructure, clean water issues, etc. First, they would put together the overall plan for a Green New Deal - they would have a year to get the plan together, with the plan to be completed by January 1, 2020. The plan itself could be in the form of a report or several reports. Second, they would also put together the draft legislation that actually implements the plan."
This is not yet FDR's Planning Board. It has no power to nationalize industries, nor is it clear that it would even have the power to order companies like GM to stop producing, say, SUVs, and start producing wind turbines or high-speed trains a la FDR. But as our climate emergency steadily worsens, it will become increasingly apparent that such government planning and direction is essential, and that nationalization via buyouts is the only way to enforce decarbonization while also forestalling capitalist opposition as best we can.
Of course all this sounds wildly utopian in our present political context and this Plan is certain to go nowhere under Trump and a Republican Senate. But a vigorous campaign for this Plan will show why capitalism cannot solve the worst crisis it has ever created and encourage demands for government intervention, government planning to suppress emissions. After all, polls have long shown that citizens want and expect the government to lead the fight against climate change by limiting CO2 emissions, in effect to "do what the science demands before it's too late." Let's hope that with a developing vision and a monumental mobilization around this Green New Deal and around fossil fuel nationalization, we can derail the capitalist drive to ecological collapse and build an ecosocialist civilization to save the human race.
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Neoliberalism as economic theory was always an absurdity. It had as much validity as past ruling ideologies such as the divine right of kings and fascism's belief in the Ubermensch. None of its vaunted promises were even remotely possible. Concentrating wealth in the hands of a global oligarchic elite--eight families now hold as much wealth as 50 percent of the world's population--while demolishing government controls and regulations always creates massive income inequality and monopoly power, fuels political extremism and destroys democracy. You do not need to slog through the 577 pages of Thomas Piketty's "Capital in the Twenty-First Century" to figure this out. But economic rationality was never the point. The point was the restoration of class power.
As a ruling ideology, neoliberalism was a brilliant success. Starting in the 1970s, its Keynesian mainstream critics were pushed out of academia, state institutions and financial organizations such as the International Monetary Fund (IMF) and the World Bank and shut out of the media. Compliant courtiers and intellectual poseurs such as Milton Friedman were groomed in places such as the University of Chicago and given prominent platforms and lavish corporate funding. They disseminated the official mantra of fringe, discredited economic theories popularized by Friedrich Hayek and the third-rate writer Ayn Rand. Once we knelt before the dictates of the marketplace and lifted government regulations, slashed taxes for the rich, permitted the flow of money across borders, destroyed unions and signed trade deals that sent jobs to sweatshops in China, the world would be a happier, freer and wealthier place. It was a con. But it worked.
"It's important to recognize the class origins of this project, which occurred in the 1970s when the capitalist class was in a great deal of difficulty, workers were well organized and were beginning to push back," said David Harvey, the author of "A Brief History of Neoliberalism," when we spoke in New York. "Like any ruling class, they needed ruling ideas. So, the ruling ideas were that freedom of the market, privatization, entrepreneurialism of the self, individual liberty and all the rest of it should be the ruling ideas of a new social order, and that was the order that got implemented in the 1980s and 1990s."
"As a political project, it was very savvy," he said. "It got a great deal of popular consent because it was talking about individual liberty and freedom, freedom of choice. When they talked about freedom, it was freedom of the market. The neoliberal project said to the '68 generation, 'OK, you want liberty and freedom? That's what the student movement was about. We're going to give it to you, but it's going to be freedom of the market. The other thing you're after is social justice--forget it. So, we'll give you individual liberty, but you forget the social justice. Don't organize.' The attempt was to dismantle those institutions, which were those collective institutions of the working class, particularly the unions and bit by bit those political parties that stood for some sort of concern for the well-being of the masses."
"The great thing about freedom of the market is it appears to be egalitarian, but there is nothing more unequal than the equal treatment of unequals."
The dissemination of the ideology of neoliberalism was highly organized by a unified capitalist class. The capitalist elites funded organizations such as the Business Roundtable and the Chamber of Commerce and think tanks such as The Heritage Foundation to sell the ideology to the public. They lavished universities with donations, as long as the universities paid fealty to the ruling ideology. They used their influence and wealth, as well as their ownership of media platforms, to transform the press into their mouthpiece. And they silenced any heretics or made it hard for them to find employment. Soaring stock values rather than production became the new measure of the economy. Everything and everyone were financialized and commodified.
"Value is fixed by whatever price is realized in the market," Harvey said. "So, Hillary Clinton is very valuable because she gave a lecture to Goldman Sachs for $250,000. If I give a lecture to a small group downtown and I get $50 for it, then obviously she is worth much more than me. The valuation of a person, of their content, is valued by how much they can get in the market."
"That is the philosophy that lies behind neoliberalism," he continued. "We have to put a price on things. Even though they're not really things that should be treated as commodities. For instance, health care becomes a commodity. Housing for everybody becomes a commodity. Education becomes a commodity. So, students have to borrow in order to get the education which will get them a job in the future. That's the scam of the thing. It basically says if you're an entrepreneur, if you go out there and train yourself, etc., you will get your just rewards. If you don't get your just rewards, it's because you didn't train yourself right. You took the wrong kind of courses. You took courses in philosophy or classics instead of taking it in management skills of how to exploit labor."
The con of neoliberalism is now widely understood across the political spectrum. It is harder and harder to hide its predatory nature, including its demands for huge public subsidies (Amazon, for example, recently sought and received multibillion-dollar tax breaks from New York and Virginia to set up distribution centers in those states). This has forced the ruling elites to make alliances with right-wing demagogues who use the crude tactics of racism, Islamophobia, homophobia, bigotry and misogyny to channel the public's growing rage and frustration away from the elites and toward the vulnerable. These demagogues accelerate the pillage by the global elites while at the same time promising to protect working men and women. Donald Trump's administration, for example, has abolished numerous regulations, from greenhouse gas emissions to net neutrality, and slashed taxes for the wealthiest individuals and corporations, wiping out an estimated $1.5 trillion in government revenue over the next decade, while embracing authoritarian language and forms of control.
Neoliberalism generates little wealth. Rather, it redistributes it upward into the hands of the ruling elites. Harvey calls this "accumulation by dispossession."
"The main argument of accumulation by dispossession rests on the idea that when people run out of the capacity to make things or provide services, they set up a system that extracts wealth from other people," Harvey said. "That extraction then becomes the center of their activities. One of the ways in which that extraction can occur is by creating new commodity markets where there were none before. For instance, when I was younger, higher education in Europe was essentially a public good. Increasingly [this and other services] have become a private activity. Health service. Many of these areas which you would consider not to be commodities in the ordinary sense become commodities. Housing for the lower-income population was often seen as a social obligation. Now everything has to go through the market. You impose a market logic on areas that shouldn't be open to market."
"When I was a kid, water in Britain was provided as a public good," Harvey said. "Then, of course, it gets privatized. You start to pay water charges. They've privatized transportation [in Britain]. The bus system is chaotic. There's all these private companies running here, there, everywhere. There's no system which you really need. The same thing happens on the railways. One of the things right now, in Britain, is interesting--the Labour Party says, 'We're going to take all of that back into public ownership because privatization is totally insane and it has insane consequences and it's not working well at all.' The majority of the population now agrees with that."
Under neoliberalism, the process of "accumulation by dispossession" is accompanied by financialization.
"Deregulation allowed the financial system to become one of the main centers of redistributive activity through speculation, predation, fraud, and thievery," Harvey writes in his book, perhaps the best and most concise account of the history of neoliberalism. "Stock promotions, ponzi schemes, structured asset destruction through inflation, asset stripping through mergers and acquisitions, the promotion of levels of debt incumbency that reduce whole populations even in the advanced capitalist countries to debt peonage. To say nothing of corporate fraud, dispossession of assets, the raiding of pension funds, their decimation by stock, and corporate collapses by credit and stock manipulations, all of these became central features of the capitalist financial system."
Neoliberalism, wielding tremendous financial power, is able to manufacture economic crises to depress the value of assets and then seize them.
Neoliberalism, wielding tremendous financial power, is able to manufacture economic crises to depress the value of assets and then seize them.
"One of the ways in which you can engineer a crisis is to cut off the flow of credit," he said. "This was done in Eastern, Southeast Asia in 1997 and 1998. Suddenly, liquidity dried up. Major institutions would not lend money. There had been a big flow of foreign capital into Indonesia. They turned off the tap. Foreign capital flowed out. They turned it off in part because once all the firms went bankrupt, they could be bought up and put back to work again. We saw the same thing during the housing crisis here [in the United States]. The foreclosures of the housing left lots of housing out there, which could be picked up very cheaply. Blackstone comes in, buys up all of the housing, and is now the biggest landlord in all of the United States. It has 200,000 properties or something like that. It's waiting for the market to turn. When the market turns, which it did do briefly, then you can sell off or rent out and make a killing out of it. Blackstone has made a killing off of the foreclosure crisis where everyone lost. It was a massive transfer of wealth."
Harvey warns that individual freedom and social justice are not necessarily compatible. Social justice, he writes, requires social solidarity and "a willingness to submerge individual wants, needs, and desires in the cause of some more general struggle for, say, social equality and environmental justice." Neoliberal rhetoric, with its emphasis on individual freedoms, can effectively "split off libertarianism, identity politics, multiculturalism, and eventually narcissistic consumerism from the social forces ranged in pursuit of social justice through the conquest of state power."
The economist Karl Polanyi understood that there are two kinds of freedoms. There are the bad freedoms to exploit those around us and extract huge profits without regard to the common good, including what is done to the ecosystem and democratic institutions. These bad freedoms see corporations monopolize technologies and scientific advances to make huge profits, even when, as with the pharmaceutical industry, a monopoly means lives of those who cannot pay exorbitant prices are put in jeopardy. The good freedoms--freedom of conscience, freedom of speech, freedom of meeting, freedom of association, freedom to choose one's job--are eventually snuffed out by the primacy of the bad freedoms.
"Planning and control are being attacked as a denial for freedom," Polanyi wrote. "Free enterprise and private ownership are declared to be essentials to freedom. No society built on other foundations is said to deserve to be called free. The freedom that regulation creates is denounced as unfreedom; the justice, liberty and welfare it offers are decried as a camouflage of slavery."
"The idea of freedom 'thus degenerates into a mere advocacy of free enterprise,' which means 'the fullness of freedom for those whose income, leisure and security need no enhancing, and a mere pittance of liberty for people, who may in vain attempt to make use of their democratic rights to gain shelter from the power of the owners of property,' " Harvey writes, quoting Polanyi. "But if, as is always the case, 'no society is possible in which power and compulsion are absent, nor a world in which force has no function,' then the only way this liberal utopian vision could be sustained is by force, violence, and authoritarianism. Liberal or neoliberal utopianism is doomed, in Polanyi's view, to be frustrated by authoritarianism, or even outright fascism. The good freedoms are lost, the bad ones take over."
Neoliberalism transforms freedom for the many into freedom for the few. Its logical result is neofascism. Neofascism abolishes civil liberties in the name of national security and brands whole groups as traitors and enemies of the people. It is the militarized instrument used by the ruling elites to maintain control, divide and tear apart the society and further accelerate pillage and social inequality. The ruling ideology, no longer credible, is replaced with the jackboot.