Thursday, January 24, 2013

Follow Yr Dreams: "The Hurt Locker" As War-Porn Wanderlust

-Mike Ferraro


Given the subject’s prominence over the last decade, when considering the most influential American films of the last ten years you would be remiss not to focus part of your selection on a film or films that depict war in the Middle East. Of the slew of such films that have come and gone, a worthy contender for discussion, not least of all for its raised profile as last year’s big Oscar winner, is The Hurt Locker.

Because of the film's documentary or embedded reporter-style depiction of combat, and the level of purported objectivity such a style allegedly employs, the more generous reading of the film's treatment of war is that it depicts, like all good anti-war films, the cold and impartial carnage and madness of combat in all its abject horror.

A less generous reading would suggest that it glorifies violence and the rush of combat to a frightening and fantastic degree. Not only that, but more troubling, in the figure of veritable sociopath—or is it just plain old war junkie, the film has trouble making a distinction—James, the film glorifies the mentality that such senseless violence breeds.

In fact, the overt message of the film indicates the latter, less generous, reading.
Disarming IEDs, after all, is “gangster.” And war can be fun, advises the well-intended but preposterously fatuous officer-psychologist who trades the cushy confines of his desk for a day in the hummer on bomb-duty. Given the stunted trajectory and limited imagination of the film’s narrative arc, do I even need to add that he is blown to smithereens as a result of this stab at everyman heroism?

Whatever irony and intended message underlying such subtle filmmaking, the effect is lost on me. Simply put, moments like these come across as pure Hollywood-schmaltz. Even more simply, the psychologist is a straight-up dope.

I mean, they're all dopes, stuck in a godforsaken desert-hell, risking their necks for fairy-tales. But that is another discussion altogether, I’m afraid.

For the heart of the film lies in James' return home to his humdrum suburban-existence—the staidness and uniformity of which, the film suggests, is enough to justify his war-lust. There he confesses to his infant son that in life you only really love one or two things. Well, one thing, it turns out. The closing shot of the film is of James, shitkickers laced-up and crunching that infernal desert sand as he embarks on yet another tour of duty.

Sorry, kid, you gotta follow your dreams no matter how putrid.

I realize James’ confessional is supposed to be a big, brave moment of emotional honesty and character-revelation, one that shows—in a film, ostensibly, about such moments—the cyclical nature of, and our obsession with, violent masculinity. But, because of the schmaltz and one-dimensionality of everything that came before, it falls flat. Further, whatever the filmmakers' intentions, in the The Hurt Locker the Iraq War comes across as the pointless waste of lives and resources that it is and was engineered to be. And such revelations do not seem to be the point of this film. The film’s preoccupation with the glorification of war-violence, disingenuously and irresponsibly rendered under the guise of mock-objectivity and reporting, exacerbates this tendency in virtually every frame.

Still, I would like to think that the film adopts the attitude of say, Zola, or Brett Easton Ellis—that imitation is the most severe form of criticism, but honestly I don't think this is so.

In any event, the film taught me exactly nothing new regarding the madness of combat. Worse, each fragmented scene, stuck in its monotony, serves only to further desensitize the viewer to the obscene violence onscreen. And that is perhaps the film's most disconcerting aspect. Correlatively, the fact that the first female win for best director came under the banner of this type of war-porn tells us much about ourselves and sick cultural norms.

Sanborn was right: they should have blown that "rowdy boy" back to hell when they had the chance. 878 bombs disarmed or not, James is a liability, and the mentality that he embodies needs permanent erasure.

An impossible task, I know, but one worthy of our attention nonetheless.

Wednesday, January 2, 2013

Pride Goeth Before A Fall: An Open Letter to My Hometown

Anthony Schiappa





I.
Delhi, India. Kivu, Democratic Republic of the Congo. Steubenville, Ohio.  All deeply connected previously unimaginable ways.

It must finally be faced. Our sons raped one of our daughters and the authorities are doing as little as they can about it. For many residents, the first reaction was to defend our precious Steubenville pride, in ourselves, our kids, our city, our school, our football team. Too fearful to speak the truth, we turned the stark relief of black and white, of right and wrong, into an opaque gray.

Equivocation is spinelessness. It is high time to end the chorus of “whatever happened to innocent until proven guilty?” This seemingly levelheaded plea for open-mindedness only functions as an attempt to stop the discussion dead in its tracks, and to keep us from confronting reality. It removes power and responsibility from our hands, which is exactly where it should be, and places in the hands of “authorities.” The lawyers and judges will determine what is legal; I seek the truth.

So once and for all, let us end this horrid, transparent pretense to impartiality and accept that a young girl was sexually assaulted multiple times over the course of that August night—taken from party to party while unconscious and intoxicated, and forced to endure an endless stream of humiliations—by members of the Steubenville high school football team. Like most sexual assaults in our morally repugnant society, her brutalization was not at the hands of some random psychopaths hiding in the shadows, but by people she knew and trusted. In this case, these trusted friends meticulously and gleefully documented their actions. Everyone present that night shares the guilt, verdict be damned, and their crimes continue every day they refuse to step forward and take responsibility for what they have done.

Though the details are common knowledge, most of the perpetrators face no consequences. The two defendants are facing reduced sentences as juveniles despite the very adult and illegal activity they engaged in. We are frequently told the case will be difficult to prosecute: an odd characterization given the literal stream of digital evidence available to prosecutors and investigators. The only logical conclusion to draw then is that authorities aren't interested in finding and using this evidence. Despite the incessant blue-collar yapping about self-accountability, there is a concerted effort to keep the guilty from taking full responsibility for their actions. All of this is painfully obvious to the casual observer and represents the source and scope of the outrage now directed at Steubenville.

So how did this happen? Unlike a tragedy such as the Connecticut shootings, the perpetrators in this case cannot be simply—and falsely—labeled outsiders who went crazy and did despicable things, but who do not represent the community as a whole. That is the usual response: we bury our heads, and our chance of real healing, further into the sand. In Steubenville, some of us have clung to a puerile refrain to further insulate ourselves from this truth, hitting all the tired old notes regarding the indomitable spirit, strength, and purpose of vision of our good ol’ American values along the way, insisting: “we have a lot of of good student athletes, we believe in our kids, we have a top-notch high school, the coaches mean well but are imperfect, and we support our students.”

It’s all a sham, of course. The ugliness and violence of the case are just as much a part of us as our proudest achievements, whether or not we choose to take responsibility for them. This attempted reaffirmation of our quintessential “goodness” in the face of tragedy is rotten through and through because it leaves all of the underlying causes of these events unexamined, unchanged, and waiting to happen again, as it inevitably will. (Ask yourself if you really think this is the first time something like this has ever happened in Steubenville.) No bastard children to disown this time. Big Red’s athletes carry on our proudest traditions and represent our values. And they raped a sixteen-year-old girl.

For a town like Steubenville, for any town across America, these are desperately hard facts to come to grips with. But we must face them bravely. The health and security of our nation depends on it. In order to accomplish this task of creating new and better values—beneficent, life-affirming values—we need to ask ourselves difficult questions. First and foremost, where did these boys learn their attitudes towards women? Where we all learn our attitudes: in the home, in the school, in the locker room, in the church, from parents, siblings, teachers, coaches, clergy, our city fathers, and one another. They are as much a reflection of our community as the upstanding kids who stay out of trouble and do great things, and try as we might, we cannot distance ourselves from them now.


II.
So what is it with Steubenville?

Steubenville is a former booming, bustling steel town that has been in decline for decades, completely battered and bewildered by the indifferent forces of global economics. At the whims of Almighty Capital, we have been bled dry and left for dead, and the cancer of corruption feasted on whatever was left. This corruption, in many ways, is a holdover from the Glory Days, when the mob ran things and there was plenty of action to be had downtown. A big-city, almost East Coast mentality is easily discernible to this day, the source of our much-vaunted grit and toughness. The “Little Chicago” lore is well known: nightclubs, bars, gambling, brothels, with the mob pulling the strings of it all. A wild time, better than Vegas.

When the good times ended, the mob mentality lingered on like an endless hangover, even though there was nothing to control. This persistent corruption extends to the police force, one of the first in the nation to sign a consent decree with the federal government for excessive Civil Rights lawsuits, tampering with evidence, falsifying reports, and sheer intimidation and brutality (and anyone who has had spent some time around ex-cops knows the documented evidence does not reveal the half of it). The past few years have also seen a steady rise in gun violence, gangs and drugs, the responsibility for which is placed on individuals from outside the area moving in. We all know the oft-cited positives: sure, there is a wonderful effort to bring back the Grand Theater, and yes, the elementary schools are the best in Ohio. But on the whole, the future for Steubenville, and the Ohio Valley as a whole, is rather grim. A glimmer of hope on the horizon comes from the shale gas cash-in, igniting talk of a kind of renaissance, but we are placing this hopes in a group of thirsty businessmen who are coming to drink our blood—and we can take or leave whatever they’re offering, but they will unquestionably keep the true wealth for themselves.

The largest remaining shared positive experience is Big Red football. Despite the halfhearted protestations on Facebook and the comments sections of various articles on the case, in Steubenville, the sun rises and sets on this program. The large and beautiful stadium is full every Friday. The players and coaches are unquestionably among the best at what they do and have the complete support of the city, financially and otherwise. There is also the pure spectacle of the games: the show put on when team enters the field, with The Best Band in Buckeye Land, the majorettes, the cheerleaders, balloons, video presentations, and Man O’ War sending huge plumes of fire into the sky. A visit Harding Stadium will tell you all you need to know about what Big Red football means to Steubenville. It’s like a Nuremberg rally.

If all that sounds a little quick and easy, and more than a little embarrassing it, that’s because it is. The truth is, as always, very simple and very uncomfortable.

It is within this context that the case is unfolding, and whatever happens we can hardly blame those making accusations of a cover-up, for such claims are entirely reasonable, if not always correct. This case has been handed shamefully but predictably. All but two of the players suited up to play ball this season. Most of the people who know something do not have the courage to come forward. What they fear, we can only speculate: intimidation, threats, violence, or that something might actually change in Steubenville. The Police Chief says his hands are tied, and he doesn’t know what else to do, lamenting that some people just aren’t very nice, and he wishes he could arrest people on that account. This does not sound like an experienced lawman who knows how to doggedly pursue a case; it sounds like a man either cowed or bought off. The prosecutor and judge eventually recused themselves due to their relationship to the school and to the accused, which was the right thing and had to be done, but this illustrates how closely connected everyone is in the city. The local news station is doing as much as it can to not ask difficult questions for the fear of offending their viewers, and featured the accused on a promo for “Sports Friday,” dedicated to high school football coverage. The coach of the team said he didn’t think the kids had done anything. His investigation consisted of asking the kids themselves if they felt what they had done was wrong, and naturally, they said they didn’t think so. In terms of real actions, he did nothing other than threaten reporters. Anything to protect his beloved football program, since that is who he is, and without it, he is nothing.

My own hunch is that he thinks we should be grateful that he offered up his two top players, and that we’re crazy to ask for more when he has his season to think about. The superintendent of the school system said he is satisfied with the coach’s “handling” of the situation, almost as though he was afraid of stepping overstepping his bounds. The principal, astonishingly, said he wasn’t even aware of what was happening until October, even though the story broke in August. School administrators have done nothing to reassure the girls of Big Red that they will be protected from brutalization. Clearly, they won’t be. Whether this is gross incompetence, corruption, or just pure chickenshit cowardice, you can decide for yourself.

And yet people bristle at the idea that Steubenville is an economically-depressed, seedy, football-obsessed town that is circling the wagons around its favorite sons, a place where everyone knows everyone and a small cadre runs the town like a fiefdom, a bizarre amalgam of the towns of “Friday Night Lights” and “In the Head of the Night,” with a dollop of no-potatoes “GoodFellas” thrown in for good measure.

Considering these reactions, it is not at all surprising that these kids thought they would get away with it. And it looks like they will.

Now Anonymous is involved. It was only a matter of time before the case caught the attention of the national media; the only surprise is that it happened so late. There has been a resurgence of something vaguely resembling political consciousness in the country—even if this interest is, at bottom, only lurid sensationalism engineered to sell more ad space—and it was inevitable that “outsiders” would get involved. If the authorities engage in their own brand of extra-judicial justice, as it appears they have done, they can hardly be surprised when vigilantes arrive. However jerked-off the Occupy movement is, however ridiculous the Guy Fawkes masks are, whatever the deficiencies of the current state of radical politics, however many people are really only there to lodge their thankless complaints against the general shittiness of Steubenville, they are at present the only strong public voices for the victim. A sexual assault crisis organization will be at the next protest, and this will in all likelihood be the first opportunity for Steubenville’s girls to learn what rape is. In this alone, they are doing what we failed to do.

Does this sound unfair? Too harsh? The rush to defend ourselves as good parents and our kids as basically good kids is understandable, though one wonders who is trying to convince whom. Everyone loves their children, everyone is doing the best they can for their kids. It is because of our love for our children that we must do right by them—all of them, without exception. We must show our love now by truly interrogating what happened and why. The time is long past for cold, hard introspection about ourselves and what we want for our community. It is from our love that we must re-examine the values we are instilling in our sons and our daughters and take the responsibility when they do wrong. At present, the lesson we are clearly sending is that we will not protect our daughters from rape, that our boys may do whatever they wish to whomever they wish, that sex is violence, that its better to keep quiet and not make a fuss rather than to hold each other responsible for our actions, that silence is better than speaking uncomfortable truths. A shameful state of affairs to be sure, but it is impossible to conclude otherwise witnessing what is unfolding before our eyes.

Sunday, December 16, 2012

More Death, More Bombs, More Death-In-Life

Mike Ferraro

The shootings of recent days are of course tragic and sad. But what can you expect when you live in a depraved, morally and spiritually bankrupt world such as ours? In fact, the truly shocking thing is that such rampages don't happen more often than they do.

And so to the great liberal response.

Gun control. Mental illness sensitivity and awareness. Yes and yes. Of course, yes. Cue the hand-wringing, pants-shitting pundits and harrowing statistics.

Too bad everyone already knows the statistics, has felt the crushed and bruising reality of their indicies, either personally or through friends or family. That untreated schizophrenic aunt on her deathbed, crippled and long-forgotten. The never-do-well cousin serving time for armed-robbery, maybe a murderer maybe not, but surely a criminal, a miscreant-degenerate of the highest order and certainly no good. No, not a nice guy at all, someone to avoid at all costs, permanently. Someone, finally, deserving of his imprisonment and wretched fate.

We've all got stories and tragedies, big and small, regarding the horrors of gun violence and mental illness. Behind them all lies the same, simple truth. Namely, that if American legislators cared about the health of the nation and its citizenry, the social landscape would look vastly different than it does presently. Education, healthcare, the so-called war on drugs, judicial and financial reform, the list goes on and on. Instead what do we get? More bombs, guns, sickness, and death. All the rancid fruit of the plutocratic cabal between political and financial interests and the exorbitant sums exchanged between them. In other words, bizness as usual, son.

If legislators wanted to reform gun laws it would be done by now. Same holds for all the aforementioned ills and injustices. The only logical conclusion to draw, then, is that they in fact do not want these things, and will do whatever they can to prevent their occurrence, preferring instead the spoils of their perennial graft and the preservation of their shamefully lucrative subservience. Again, no surprise there: more business as usual.

These issues of corruption and decadence are not unrelated to current events. In fact, all are inextricably woven into the sickness that is American life, past and present. For what is a healthy nation but a healthy citizenry? Judged by this simple theorem, then, America has been, and remains, the sickest of all “first-world” nations. As the shootings and the reactions remind us, such events, and their causes and consequences, are already deeply politicized. To suppress this fact, even for an instant, dishonors the memory of the slain. Further, to ask that these events not be politicized in the wake of the tragedy, as if such a thing was possible, sounds good, but is in fact deeply disingenuous, patently ludicrous, and downright cowardly. It is, in essence, bad medicine, and manifests the very opposite of the liberal avowal of alleged compassion motivating such a request. In this instance, the compassionate thing is to speak truly about the underlying causes that make such tragedies a reality, and to speak against fake and easy alms and solutions that do nothing to assess the miserable record that makes such catastrophes inevitable.

To continue to mindlessly comfort ourselves with surfeited platitudes and falsehoods regarding the indefatigable will, generosity, and compassion of the American spirit may achieve its short-term narcotizing goal, providing a necessary distancing to face another round of national tragedy and mourning. But such succor is ephemeral at best. As always, the true terrors and unchecked passions linger, festering just below the surface. Yes, we may assuage our guilt for the moment but it is a shallow convalescence.

Such rhetorical perversions are the transparently manipulative purview of politicians and pundits and nothing more, serving to mask the unending clamor of the American nightmare reality and its manic beat of more death, more bombs, more death-in-life. If we are to get serious about saving ourselves and this country, these aberrations, and their attendant death-march, need discarding pronto. The future of all our children, and the republic itself, depends on it.
        

Friday, October 14, 2011

Pernicious Babble: Occupy Wall St. and the Fight to Save Capitalism



Our celebrity radicals have been tripping over themselves to endorse the nascent Occupy Wall Street movement, and as the empty words spill from their mouths, their intellectual bad faith becomes increasingly apparent. Many of these hacks have always been mouthy Democrats, despite their half-hearted forays into radical critique. Thus, understanding their reactions to the Occupy Wall Street protest illuminates the rotten foundation of this movement and the system it allegedly opposes.

For instance, Naomi Klein, among the heaviest hitters in the celebrity-radical set, had this to say about Occupy Wall St.: “This is not the time to be looking for ways to dismiss a nascent movement against the power of capital, but to do the opposite: to find ways to embrace it, support it and help it grow into its enormous potential. With so much at stake, cynicism is a luxury we simply cannot afford.”

If a respectable journalist like Klein deems it necessary to instruct us to ignore that nagging cynicism to criticize and dismiss, this alone is proof positive that there is much to be cynical, critical and dismissive about. The more support these "radical" elites give to a movement, the more reason we have to question it. When she says that “cynicism is a luxury we simply cannot afford,” what she is really saying, in classic goose-stepping ideological fashion, is that in times of crisis, critical thinking is an indulgence. When Klein counsels that “any attempt to create a genuinely open space to share political ideas is necessarily going to be chaotic and at times embarrassing,” she is in effect preemptively admonishing us into complicity with a movement we cannot understand because we are permitted to ask only positive - that is, pre-approved and stage-managed - questions. She is instructing us to take what is in reality entirely the wrong course of action - to not ask is why it is so chaotic and embarrassing and to passively accept it for the sake of being on board with an incoherent program for no other reason than it exists, echoing the same “no alternative” script as our system's more honest and open neo-liberal defenders. There’s also an aftertaste of shame in these words. Like Dr. Frankenstein begging the townsfolk for mercy on his idiot monster, Klein defends this admittedly embarrassing movement based on many of the reformist principles gussied up as a revolution that she peddles in her books.

Indeed, the crypto-Stalinist message here is clear enough. Don’t criticize a movement that has been organized for you, especially if it has the blessing of your officially sanctioned “voices of opposition” - the Kliens, the Chomskys, the Moores, the Wests, the Zizeks, the Sarandons, the Goodmans, the Rushkoffs, the Ehrenreichs. Ignore that sinking feeling that this spectacle of revolt may be distracting you from actually participating in a real one. Grab a sign, get in the street, and unless you’re following the script, keep your mouth shut. This wet fart of a movement is all you’re going to get, in other words, so you all better get on board.

Asking honest questions might lead to some uncomfortable conclusions, not only of the true nature of this movement, but of the leadership of the Left, and what their true message and mission actually are. We might just figure out that what they really want is more capitalism.

And it is the all-too-quick willingness of the rest of us to comply with this injunction to be supportive of any group as long as it seems to be doing something, even if that something is nothing, that seals off the possibility of the remnants of a radical movement from engaging in critical self-reflection, a re-examination of its goals and tactics, a process without which it will be entirely ill-equipped to confront a nearly omnipotent enemy, the Holy Alliance of Wall Street and Washington, two arms of the same control apparatus. It is this intransigent unwillingness to face up to uncomfortable truths, to take a long, cold look in the mirror, that is the principal handicap of a Left that is schlepping its way into the grave, all the while going through the motions that time and again have accomplished nothing. All this as if to fulfill its pre-assigned role so faithfully, so completely, as though it had no choice but to consecrate its own demise by turning itself into a bad joke, serving up the same old punch lines that keep losing their punch. That noise wafting up from Wall Street is not the virile bellowing of a reinvigorated Left, but rather the death rattle of its last helpless gasps for air.

So, let’s get down to brass tacks: what is it about Occupy Wall Street that is so embarrassing, what is it that evokes such disdain among so many people, a disdain equal to or surpassing the cheap, point-and-click solidarity among others? It’s not the stupid signs, Che flags, or the “ultra-Leftist” clichés repeated ad nauseum. It’s not the morons who get on television, giddy in their millisecond of fame, nor is it the celebrities who make speeches with out the slightest trace of self-awareness. It’s not the ordering pizzas or Tweeting the revolt. It’s not the leaderlessness, nor is it the disorganization. It’s not events such as “Slut Walks” or the “General Assemblies,” nor is it the call-and-response, cult indoctrination of the speaking events.

No, there is only reason why Occupy Wall Street is an embarrassment, and it is from whence all these other embarrassments derive: it is not a movement against the “power of capital,” as Klein would have it, but one of capital’s chief methods of self-defense, and one of its most alluring products.

Despite the much-vaunted “message-less” message of the Occupy Wall Street movement, over these past few weeks, several main concerns have shaken loose that confirm the charge that what they seek is not the destruction of a system of domination or the abolition of its most degrading institutions, such as wage labor and private property, but a more “equitable” distribution of its so-called benefits. Indeed, as if to prove they conform to the logic of the media that incessantly advertises the status quo, many go out of their way to say they are explicitly not a radical movement, as if they were afraid of scaring off the timid masses, like marketing company touting the family-friendliness of their products. As the movement itself struggles to become more broad-based and inclusive, the same old watered-down demands ring in our ears: good education, good jobs, affordable housing, and access to health care. Some have even suggested Obama convene a panel to explore the influence of money in politics - as though it’s some big mystery. In point of fact, that the kids who unquestionably make up a majority of this movement are college-educated but with no hope of anything but the most menial service jobs illustrates that what they really seek is the reclamation of the privileges that have been stripped of them in the most recent economic crisis and would in all likelihood pack up and go home if they were offered jobs, perfectly content to leave the whole rotten system intact.

But these privileges have not evaporated due to greed and pigheadedness among the ownership/investment classes. They have evaporated as part of the normal function of the system. When capitalism got itself into one of its usual crises back in 2008, it was the majority of the population who had to make do with less in order for the system to survive - hence the “austerity measures.” Naturally, the OWSers point to this as a grave injustice, illustrating the greed and corruption of the “1%” who allowed millions to slide into poverty and misery rather than altruistically sacrifice their own position and status. This of course begs the question of just what in the hell they thought was going to happen. In the absence of a viable radical, revolutionary movement (and all actually-existing organizations that claim this mantle are in the last analysis still hitched to liberalism) there was no other course of action possible. This “injustice” is in fact part of the normal running of the system, and not the evil machinations of the “bad guys” on Wall Street. Those “bad guys” maintain power as a class through their management and administration of the economy, a rigged game that structures the world, the rules of which they have written to ensure their perpetual victory. It is entirely ludicrous to speak of “economic injustice” (a true contradiction in terms if there ever was one) or any sort of equitable social arrangement, without simultaneously rejecting existing society in its totality because those injustices are in reality merely the most visible, superficial phenomena of a system predicated on domination. We are in the midst of a power relationship that is maintained through economic management, not the victims of greedy leaders who need to be replaced or put in check. In other words, rampant poverty and crushing misery are not the result of a neutral field run badly, but the inevitable result of the social power of the ownership/investment classes, those few who organize the many. Indeed, a hierarchically structured society cannot function on any other basis. It is precisely through hard-nosed pragmatism of our economic arrangements, to which we are all beholden, that that class maintains its power, and this is the crucial point that so many fail to recognize.

In a word, the elites are not simply corrupt, greedy villains who treat others unjustly; they control a class relationship with the rest of us, the very existence of which ensures its power though the very act of economic management. Even “gains” of the welfare state, Western Europe's perfected failure, were in reality allowances made by the ruling classes to head off the upsurge of radical workers in their countries, a species more or less unknown on the North American continent, to ensure everyone will remain compliant and quiet without really challenging the existing power structures. This compliance and obsequity is the enduring hallmark and legacy of the cowed Middle Class. Now, as capital demolishes the welfare state brick-by-brick in order to save itself, movements like OWS and the anti-austerity protests in Britain are simply picking up the pieces and asking for a few to be put back, failing to grasp that the elites, as long as they exist, will by necessity always put their own interests first. Without acknowledging this basic power relationship, the OWSers are not challenging they way our society actually functions. Instead, despite their pseudo-militant rhetoric, they are asking our leaders to be more generous with the scraps. But Christmas Day will never come for kids camping out on Wall Street, waiting for the Scrooges in the banks to generously throw half a crown out the window so that we all might feast on the prize turkey. No, the picture of brokers sipping champagne from stock exchange balconies while the unwashed rabble writhe in their filth below is the key and instructive image to keep in mind here regarding the reality of the situation and power relation at work. Shit, you almost have to admire their arrogance and self-assurance. They know they have all the chips in hand and are in no danger of losing a single one that they don't seek to relinquish.

This conclusion, incidentally, is validated with each union endorsement the OWSers get. Unions, despite their occasional, cynical nod to old-school worker’s movement rhetoric have never been anything more than lubricant to ease workers into compliance with a capitalist system, winning them minor comforts in order to make their domination more palatable.

Meanwhile, the OWSers play dress-up as their 60s forebears, generally going through the motions of pseudo-revolt - holding up signs, marching up and down the street, playing cat-and-mouse with the police (the really hip ones sleep a night in jail before being given citations), and spout the empty, dead rhetoric of “Leftism." This charade is carefully preparing the deathbed of whatever remains of a radical movement in America by co-opting its language and discarding its critique, rechristening opposition to this miserable society as its saving grace. If the OWS movement was really seen as a threat by the state, we would really see some police brutality, as in London this past August. For now, it’s quite content to be a freak show, a carnival without the subversive inversion of social relations, and which has simply become the latest tourist attraction in Lower Manhattan.

We must confront the fact that the only organizations which might oppose this state-economic Holy Alliance are those that refuse this society in toto, and in the most radical possible terms. Any group that claims to be radical must be evaluated on this basis. All of them fall short of this basic requirement - from the OWSers to the Zapatistas to AdBusters to the joke of a Communist Party or the walking corpse of 60s liberalism masquerading as anarchism, to all the Hardt and Negri fans—because they ultimately seek to control and reform our miserable system, not replace it. Indeed the marketplace must be torched, not made more user-friendly. And at this point the only thing that presents a significant threat to the marketplace is the marketplace itself, currently being run so irrationally that it is falling apart. The question is whether or not its custodians will be able to save it one more time, and if so, how it continues to impose disaster upon disaster on the planet itself, the ultimate source of its wealth, to the point where it becomes uninhabitable. These are the real threats to our socio-economic system, not some college kids beating drums in the street. Not that they ever really wanted to oppose it in the first place. All they really seek is a more human face on this whole state of affairs, which would really be the most inhuman thing about it.

Deep down, we all know that if this or any other movement were making the “1%” shake in their shoes, they’d be in jail, not with some bullshit slap-on-the-wrist citation, but with show trials followed-up by long-term prison sentences. Even the 60s nostalgia addicts see that much. The forms of protest that won’t land you in jail don’t matter, because they have been approved by and in fact are sanctioned by elites as a means of creating the illusion of something like democracy. Despite the occasional skirmishes, the NYPD is mostly observing with disdain, like the rest of us. As for us, lauding this pseudo-activity simply because it takes on the appearance of activity is entirely the wrong approach because anything that does lot lie in direct opposition to our society ultimately reinforces its power in that we become unable to imagine anything outside of it or beyond it. Like the Tea Party movement, it becomes just another consumable political attitude, a detergent with which we wipe clean our daily compliance while the system continues along its mad way, indifferently and relentlessly replicating and expanding itself with force seemingly as inevitable as gravity. We become ingrained with the idea that we live in the best of all possible worlds, an idea that would be absurd if it wasn’t so horrifying.

The situation is indeed dire and very likely hopeless; though one can never rule out change in the course of history, one should certainly not count on it either. Ignoring this hopelessness simply to remain “positive” is to insist on willful blindness to the reality that is all too easy to discern for those willing to see it. It is this hopeless, horrifying reality that must be confronted, and this confrontation is a modest but crucial first step in creating a world that has never existed. It is meaningless to discuss human emancipation without explicitly working to dispel our own cherished illusions, our most pernicious babble endlessly regurgitated as if this was in itself a revolutionary act.

Sunday, September 18, 2011

Clearing Up A Few Common Misconceptions About the Arab Spring


Much is made, in both the media and in the halls of academia, of the so-called “Arab Spring.” As usual, most of it is self-congratulatory hot air. Let us review.

The nations in which the Arab Spring has occurred have for decades stood in a fake opposition to the West, defined here as those states in which consumer capitalism is most highly developed. While in the West, the population has been kept under control by the latex paradise of consumer goods, the nations of the "Arab Spring," like the USSR, Maoist China, and countless miniature hellscapes run by various autocrats, have been traditionally unable to offer such indulgences to the fearful, offering instead only the comfort of sheer ideology – identification with a Leader or a religion, for instance. These states have found their role to play in the worldwide economic shit parade, usually in flipping the bird from the sidewalk while the rich kids sneer at them from the floats, each finding its own legitimacy in the false choice represented by the other. Internally, the stunted development of these economies means the state must ultimately rely on brute force to keep their populations in line. As the economy of the “First World” expands, pushing with irresistible force against the thin, porous walls on its boundaries, such “Third World” nations must either play ball with the First or shrivel up in the cold wind of total exclusion. Those that choose the former, such as Mubarak’s Egypt, find security as a client state for more powerful economies, doing their dirty work and generally serving as a bogeyman, while those of less strategic geopolitical importance are made to bed down with organizations like the IMF, that Don Fanucci of the global economy. For those that choose that latter, such as Gaddafi’s Libya, it is only a matter of time before their own backwardness transforms the hallucinatory image of economic prosperity and "freedoms" of the West into the ultimate commodity for a worn down population - revolution. Except it’s not revolution, not really, but its consumable image, and one that stirs up the passion for all the others.

As for us, when those in the news media, those carnival barkers for the powerful, start yapping their fool heads off about the revolutionary upsurge in the Middle East, this alone should raise the suspicion of any thinking person. Like an open carbuncle on the ass of a well-dressed gentleman, the question nags: what are they fighting for, exactly?

We all should unconditionally support a true, radical emancipatory spirit where we see it, but it is precisely the desire to see it where it doesn’t exist that has led popular movements down the garden path time and again, as the history of the Twentieth Century illustrates. A revolution, if this is how we are to consider these events, fails as soon as it squanders its moment by agreeing to terms with the society it is attempting to dismantle. In essence, the Arab movement is a mass demand for reforms, which may or may not lead to modest improvements in the conditions of everyday life – but its ridiculous to claim there is a radical emancipatory spirit at their core. Indeed, it is entirely silly, not to mention narcissistic, to laud such events as revolutions if their desired outcome is supposedly to have a society more like “ours” – though, let’s face it, this may be the source of Western enthusiasm for the Arab Spring in the first place… and you don’t need to get too close to catch a whiff of the cow pie. (We only really respect the “difference” if the Other is just like us.)

Thus far, this has been the case in Egypt. And the general consensus is that the best-case scenario in that once-great civilization will be the establishment of the kind of bourgeois-liberal democracy, gussied up in empty rhetoric of “multicultural pluralism,” which in the West is crumbling so quickly under the crushing weight of economic pragmatism that it can be had dirt-cheap. Sure, basic conditions of existence are better in, say, the US than Mubarak’s Egypt, but we cannot understand a revolutionary tide in terms of what is preferable over what is desirable. Having yet to assert itself incisively, meaning a total refusal of compromise with existing authority, and without any sign of that happening in the near future, the movement of Tahrir Square has thus far been brought back under the sway the state, which endured by shedding Mubarak, remaining otherwise intact. In point of fact, has reinforced its power by incorporating the demand for “democratic reforms,” but on its own terms. Like BP ousting Tony Hayward after the Deepwater Horizon catastrophe, the Egyptian state solved its image problem by giving itself a makeover.

The situation in Libya is somewhat different, of course, but not fundamentally. Whatever new government takes control in Tripoli will face the same choice: submit or suffer, either to the Euro-American hegemon – or, should the reining champ go down, whatever country comes closest to perfecting the Holy Alliance between state and economic power, and at this point the smart money is on China.

These “revolutions” do not take place in a vacuum: they are outbursts within the hierarchically structured world of sanctified power-through-capital. Although currently in crisis where it has traditionally been the strongest, it is not going anywhere into the foreseeable future. Whatever governments rise to power will emerge from their revolutionary punch-drunkenness into the same old system of capital that has built the world in its image and which, as class societies based on wage labor, are by necessity predicated on domination – and it is this world into which these new states will be integrated.  Herein lies the unity between these two societies, one in revolt and in the other in crisis: both are struggling to find better ways of operating the machinery of capital. No one seriously sees in the Arab Spring a refusal of the domination and degradation of life under the integrated state-economy that has ordered the globe – rather, they seek to improve its management on the local level, to participate more “equitably,” which is to say, to get a little more back for their trouble. In this sense, it is simply a quest for modernization of an old system that faces no serious challenges. What they’re fighting for, and what they will in fact be lucky to receive considering the realistic alternatives, is a kinder, gentler form of domination – a velvet glove on the iron fist.

Meanwhile, the postmodern-liberal academics can pat themselves on the back that the poor oppressed people of whatever country they didn’t care about until a couple of months ago rose up to overthrow their governments in order to establish the system they’ve been implicitly defending. Secretly satisfied that they were on the right side of the history they had made careers questioning the existence of, the liberal bourgeois democracy they’ve legitimized by turning critical theory against itself has apparently finally won out.

As China perfects the kind of authoritarian consumerism that will be the result in the United States and Europe of the ongoing “financial crisis,” the nations of the Arab Spring are indeed poised to reclaim their subservient role in this brave old world. 

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

The Abominable Season: Remembering 9/11 Ten Years Later

-Mike Ferraro

And of course this week the posts come pouring in. You people make me sick with your pep talk tributes and jingoistic profile pictures commemorating those twin dildos of American enterprise that once blighted the New York City sky.

And forget about your tear-jerking ‘morning of’ anecdotes, full of empty slogans and Hallmark sentimentality. Is there not an ounce of imagination among you? How about a braincell? Rest assured, what you lack in imagination you make up tenfold in slavish compliance and obsequity.

But perhaps I am being too harsh. It is after all a sensitive subject. And besides, conformity’s the only game in town, right?

Yet I stand firm in my pronouncements.

Let’s get one thing clear, panegyrists: Unless you were one of the chosen stuck in an incinerator of shattering steel and exploding flesh, who the fuck cares where you were the morning of 9/11? And even then, who gives a shit anyway, really?

And since we’re sharing ourselves so completely this abominable season, you want to know where I was that fateful morning? In bed, dead asleep. That’s right, our great national crisis and I slept right through it. Until the phone rang that is. My mother, calling to report that the Pentagon was on fire. (Her exact words, I remember. How could I forget them?) Then: How was I? Was I OK, was I safe?

And how did I respond to this news? I told her not to worry, that I was fine, and put the receiver down. Then I laughed my ass off, rolled over, and went back to bed.

It’s OK, I can say such things. See, my father worked on the 88th floor of both towers during their construction, when they were just scaffolding swaying in the wind. He’s a plumber, and a good one too, but quit the job after a few weeks because of the height. Since then he’s always felt a connection to those buildings. Nearly thirty years later, as a plumbing supervisor for the Newark Board of Education, my father watched his beloved towers burn and eventually collapse on his way to work.

Does this sketch lend my voice a more sympathetic note, does it somehow authenticate my perspective? Is the acerbity of my earlier remarks tempered by this knowledge that my father saw the towers go up and watched them come down, an entire landscape--both emotional and physical--displaced along the way, the measure of a man and his life hijacked in the span of a few hours?

Yet none of this changes the fundamental reality of our situation. Let’s not mince words: Don’t cry to me about the great tragedy of 9/11, how we'll never forget the events and inestimable loss of that terrible day. Don't tell me that everything’s changed. Get the shit outta your ears: Nothing’s changed, suckers. Unless, of course, you count the endless war profiteering, unparalleled national deficit and expenditures, and erosion of civil liberties racked up since that day, all of which were on the table long before the time of great tragedy struck. 9/11 was no catalyst--it was merely the excuse proffered to implement the dirty deeds of the corporate technocrats and militarists. It was, as they say in Washington, bizness as usual.

Such long term plans for global hegemony go back at least as far as World War II. That said, as cursorily reported by the least cowed members of the lapdog press, what we have in the latest US invasion of Iraq is something more primordial, and therefore more relatable: namely, a good old-fashioned blood feud. According to this theory, W’s ousting of our old ally Saddam was payback for Saddam’s bungled hit on pappy, itself an act of retribution for Gulf War I. Seen in this light, as flagrantly irresponsible and wrong-headed as it is, at least this war policy connects on a visceral level, which is more than can be said for the rest of W’s presidency.

If such tantrums seem like the pathological behavior of a spoiled, petulant child, that’s because they are. An unmitigated disaster politically and policy-wise--expanding with a vengeance Reagan’s abysmal borrow and spend legacy--W was, as far as zeitgeist barometers go, the best president around; the one we, as a nation, unequivocally deserved. The figure this president cut required no metaphoric gloss or interpretation outside the obvious--the caricatures themselves more than sufficed. Embodying in thought and action the US’s interests and stature in the world, here was a walking, talking, dick swinging horror show, a most unholy mix come terrifyingly to life: part cowboy gone off the range, part superhuman bully, rolled into one inarticulate, bumbling, coke-snortin-til-he-became-saved trust fund baby. Shit, he’s not even a real goddamn cowboy. In short, W was the kind of incorrigible frat boy we would most like to have a beer with, to invoke some idiot pollster’s enduring election time conceit. With one glaring exception of course: this fun-lovin’ joker’s loosey-goosey antics had dire consequences for an inestimable number of people the world over, of which the final toll and magnitude of suffering have yet to be realized.

Myself, I remember waking up the morning after the 2004 presidential election feeling violated. Not that I needed further corroboration on this front, I understood clearly, and not for the first time, that the system was hopelessly and irredeemably fucked, and that baring a full blown miracle we were all doomed. I mean, it’s not like Kerry was even warm shit in comparison to W’s cold. But what could you do?--those were the choices, little more than simple, indistinct variations on a theme. This then was the measure of our America: Elections were meaningless charades, our democracy a fraud and piss poor decoy for the thing it purported to be. Were things ever any different? If so, it’s virtually impossible to imagine that time now.

These were not completely demoralizing and unsatisfactory realizations however. They were, in fact, deeply liberating. For example, that morning I knew I’d never vote again. And I haven’t. Like a newly baptized AA member, I'm proud to say the urge to take another hit of the old Jesus juice never once returned--black president be damned.

Yet such sentiments are commonplace, and the knowledge of the transgressions of government power passe, to the point of both seeming hopelessly irrelevant. What is clear, however, is that in an age where the public dwells in a ‘post-ironic’ fugue--where the incontestable assumption that the emperor has no clothes is a foregone conclusion, as the lack of surprise or even outrage over the Wiki-leaks scandal illustrates--this deep cynicism serves to further re-inscribe the values and practices of our broke and downward spiraling system. And in turn such blind acceptance and complete desensitized tolerance of the status quo work to condone these routine and egregious abuses of power and the overall functioning of a toxic and perennially mismanaged system. In this way, then, and in a manner unlike any before thanks to the over-saturation of information through digital media platforms, we are all unanimously complicit in the principal objective and operation of everyday life, namely the sanctification of power through capital.

In this respect no one is off the hook. Ten years ago today, for the first time in recent memory, the bully got punched back. To ignore this obvious reality embraces a total ignorance of historical fact.

Doesn't matter if it was ten years ago or ten minutes--as long as people are fighting for basic survival under the iron-fisted rule of capital, the real tragedy is happening the same place it always has: out in the streets.

Yes, it’s all happening right outside your window, whether you choose to admit it or not. Take a good look sometime if you don't believe me. Or better yet, go to the mirror. Open your fucking eyes and look carefully. Think about what the fuck it is that is making you so fucking miserable. Can you still see that view outside your window? Good. Look back and forth between mirror and street as needed to make the necessary connections, till it registers what the fuck the problem really is. Stare in the face, if just this once, the things that are making you so miserable and alienated and be done with it. Be honest with yourself. For once in your miserable fucking life.

And today instead of crying over the dead in sanctimonious and false eulogy, why don’t you go out and live a little while you still can? It’s the only honorable thing to do, the only decent commemoration of the dead to be made on this solemn day or any other.
Take heed: For once I know what the fuck I’m talking about. Do you?

Saturday, September 10, 2011

The Reichstag Is Still Burning: 9/11 and the Conspiracy Theory of History


“… we live and die at the confluence of innumerable mysteries.” 
-Guy Debord

The intervening decade since 9/11 certainly lends credence to the air conspiracy surrounding those events. Before the dust had settled and dead were buried, and without any of the usual pretense to debate, the federal government, through legislation such as the Patriot Act, empowered itself to strip any person of their “civil liberties,” a quaint term indeed in these times, and invested law enforcement agencies at the federal, state and local levels with Stasi-like authority. President Bush assumed emergency powers, declaring a permanent state of emergency that made the exception to the law the rule of law, and reserved the right to freely monitor the citizenry while stripping “detainees” from around the globe of their very status as humans beings in the grotesque carnivals of Abu Grahib and Guantánamo Bay, and in the process rendered the distinction between war and peace impossible, becoming the closest the world has seen in to a modern day sovereign. Two wars were launched in areas of the globe most hostile of American interests and which also hold the largest and most important reserves of fossil fuels, the very fuel of the economy, in what turned out to be a hare-brained attempt to control those regions and by extension the world. Of course, defense contractors and investment firms of all stripes made an absolute killing in the process. Meanwhile, we the bewildered herd clung to cheap sentiment, feigned outrage, and showed our resolve by merchandising in the face of tragedy, with all the FDNY/NYPD hats, t-shirts and bumper stickers you can imagine. The government was assured of no pesky pushback from the masses.

No one disputes these facts, they only attempt to apologize for or justify them to varying degrees. These explanations and justifications need not be reasonable if they are the only ones on offer. Considering these events, if you don’t view the events of 9/11 with a certain skepticism, you might indeed be the one who is crazy.

And it would be far from the first time this had happened. On February 27, 1933, four weeks after Hitler had become Chancellor, Marinus van der Lubbe, a mentally unstable bricklayer and council communist from the Netherlands, was arrested for setting fire to the Reichstag, the parliament building of the German government in Berlin. Hitler subsequently assumed emergency powers, suspended civil liberties and crushed the left opposition to the Nazis. The circumstances surrounding this event remain murky, but no one seriously believes van der Lubbe simply acted alone.

In 1978, Italian politician Aldo Moro was kidnapped and murdered by the Red Brigades at a time when communist and anarchist groups were gaining ground politically in Italy. After the events, as the state was able to justify stricter control measures, this radical high tide broke and receded. Years later, the findings of the Italian government itself would find that the Brigades had been manipulated in some way by a faction within the state apparatus.

The 1990s saw the emergence of anti-capitalist and anti-globalization movements throughout the world, culminating in the 1999 Seattle riots, which shook the assumptions of the final victory of American capitalism around the world after the fall of the USSR. In this case, the actual deficiencies of this movement are irrelevant – all that matters is how they would have been perceived by the state. Two years later, the specter of terrorism not only made the US appear as a paradise in comparison to the seeming chaos outside its borders, but it also dramatically increased the already incredible power and influence of that state. Any nascent left-wing movement was thoroughly trounced and is still in absentia: the 2008 “financial crisis” created as ripe conditions for revolution as most of us have seen in our lifetime and without so much as a peep from any group that might seriously challenge to the normal state of affairs. And in this sense, the state capitalized on terrorism as a kind of preemptive counter-revolution.

The "conspiracy theory of history" may have at once been a ridiculous belief, but the times have breathed new life into it. The “9/11 Truth movement” itself, however, focuses on what we might call “Wile E. Coyote” logic in its obsession with physics: how come a plane crashing into the Pentagon doesn’t leave plane-shaped hole in the building, like a cartoon character running through a doorway? Indeed, they act like such belligerent buffoons and make such obviously spurious claims that it is impossible to take them seriously. And since anyone who questions the events associated with 9/11 is lumped in with them, its as though they themselves serve as unwitting disinformation agents. These dupes ultimately reinforce the legitimacy of the very government they allege to question, and the fantasy they cling to is one in which bad people do bad things who must be punished, just like in the movies. They see only people, not systems. But the ease with which they manipulate and conceal information ultimately demonstrates their fundamental unity with the world of the global spectacle.

Indeed, so many groups – from terrorist organizations to the most repressive regimes on the planet – took advantage of the events of 9/11 that the most basic question we could ask - “cui bono?” - becomes utterly meaningless. Who is the prime suspect when everyone benefits? (Everyone in power, that is.)

As Malcolm X, that voice we so desperately need in these ominous times, would have been compelled to reiterate had he lived, 9/11 was indeed a case of the chickens coming home to roost. But the power of the state was ultimately reinforced and expanded. The American government may have had its nose bloodied, but when the bully becomes the victim, he is freer than ever to do as he pleases. And the insignificant masses of this world are ground into dust more easily and more quickly than ever before.