Presented on the Old Mole Variety Hour, January 14, 2019
Once upon a time, when I was a boy
in the 1950s and ‘60s, we all took it for granted that every part of the world
was in some stage of an unstoppable world historical process called “progress,”
or “modernization,” characterized by what we would now call “globalization.”
Concretely this meant integration of the world economy under the “the free
market”: free trade, open borders and international travel, faster and easier
communication, constant technological innovation, equality (at least in
theory), and cheaper and universally available consumer goods. It also meant
cultural assimilation: that non-Western peoples and cultures would become
“civilized”. They would accept Western
rationalism, and “primitive” practices and “superstitious” beliefs would
gradually fade away. There were some obstacles such as communism, Beatniks and
Hippies, unreasonable demands of labor, the Peace movement, and premature
demands of blacks for full integration and equality. For the ruling class–the
owners and managers of capital–– progress and modernization meant paying
relatively high wages and taxes to keep peace with workers and to make
possible, or at least believable, “The American Dream.” All this maintained the ability of at least
the upper layers of the working class to be consumers of an increasing
cornucopia of commodities.
However, beginning around the time
of the Viet Nam war, several things happened to weaken the support of
capitalists for this system. Capital began to run out of profitable investment
opportunities for at least two reasons. First, the demand for consumer goods
that had been starved during WWII became saturated. Second, the recovery of the
production systems of Germany and Japan from the destruction of the war gave US
firms more competition, cutting into profits. So US capital faced a crisis of
surplus productive capacity. And if that were not enough, by the 1980s, ruling
elites were beginning to read the writing on the wall–that is, the work of
scientists warning of what would happen to the planet if capitalist production
continued to pour increasing amounts of CO2 into the atmosphere. In his newest
book Down to Earth, Bruno Latour
makes clear how this problem played out politically. Not only did a warming
planet mean that capitalists could not expect to go on profitably producing
more and more stuff and employing an expanding workforce, but that at some
not-too-distant time, the whole fabric of society would probably come undone.
At some point, not too far way, heat waves, drought, floods, and crop failures
would mean massive and chaotic dislocation of the population. Governments would
fall, meaning no state protection of the money and property of wealthy
individuals, families, and corporations.
The costs of preventing all this by moving to carbon neutral forms of
production and transportation would be enormous, and in fact, would require a
degree of state intervention that would probably mean the end of capitalism,
that is, of the private ownership and control of production. So they renounced
any idea that they were part of a system of world-wide progress and adopted the
ideology we now call neo-liberalism. Rather than capital having any obligation,
moral or contractual, to workers and their dependents, every individual was to
be responsible for him or herself, ready to move at short notice to another
employer or even assume, like an Uber driver or an adjunct university professor,
the status of an independent contractor. Corporations and the politicians
dependent upon them loosened and removed regulations that had provided some
protection for the people from the ups and downs of the capitalist economy. Business,
and increasingly the state, no longer assumed any responsibility for the
well-being of all the people. As science began to warn the public that human
(i.e. corporate) caused climate change posed a serious threat to all life, the industries most responsible for
generating CO2, sowed a propaganda of
denial and doubt aimed at undercutting sustained public demand for adequate action.
The plan of the ruling class is now to suck the system dry with massive
transfers of wealth from the poor to the rich by privatization, complex credit
instruments, and changes to tax laws favoring corporations and the rich. They
are getting while the getting is good, while building their private luxury
bunkers in isolated places. The American
Dream has lost its credibility, leading George Carlin to assert, “They call it
the American Dream because you have to be asleep to believe it.”
As Bruno Latour nicely sums it up,
…All this is part
of a single phenomenon: the elites have been so thoroughly convinced that there
would be no future life for everyone that they have decided to get rid of all the burdens of solidarity
as fast as possible––hence the deregulation; they have decided that a sort
of gilded fortress would have to be built for those (a small percentage) who
would be able to make it through–hence
the explosion of inequalities; and they have decided that that, to conceal the
crass selfishness of such a flight out of the shared world, the would have to
reject absolutely the threat at the origin of the headlong flight––hence the
denial of climate change. (p. 18, original emphasis)
So on this analysis, Latour claims
(p. 3), it is now obvious that “the climate question is at the heart of all
geopolitical issues and that it is directly tied to questions of injustice and
inequality.” We can, says Latour, thank Donald Trump for making this clear, for
he is the shameless cheer leader and facilitator for climate denial,
deregulation, and the explicit refusal of the rights of immigrants who are
fleeing the consequences of colonial and post-colonial oppression–and,
increasingly, of drought and crop failure. But seeds of opposition adequate to
the situation are being sown: the Green
New Deal, the upcoming October Earth Strike, and Extinction
Rebellion.
Capital would like us to go on “cashing
in a billion years of planetary savings bonds and blowing it on assorted bling”
(to quote from Richard Powers’s wonderful novel about trees and forests called The Overstory). The alternative is to get on board with a deeply
ecological and political movement, one that, like the ones I just mentioned,
goes beyond mere gradual and market-based reductions of greenhouse gases. The movement we need, in order to survive, is
one that understands that we do not just
live in a place we call the
environment, but are now woven inextricably into the warp and woof of the thin
and delicate layer of soil, air, plants, and animals that constitute life on
the Earth.
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