Cortege et Litanies

On generosity versus justice

Cortege:

It was a damp crepuscular morning. A bedraggled dawn most suited to the closing act of a long-drawn-out melodrama. The funeral procession passed by my vantage point at a solemn pace - accompanied only by an occasional stifled sob of a shadowy figure in the crowd and the throb of muffled drums. This was a scene I had never imagined possible. I was witnessing the final farewell of the most universally revered curse – with all its conflicted virtues, offerings and excesses.

A deep black catafalque, draped with images signifying the four sacraments - free markets, self-regulation, monetary policy and the Dow Jones Index - forged from pure rhodium, one of the most precious metals on Earth, had cradled the palladium-crusted casket as it lay in state on Capitol Hill. NSA operatives and former members of the US Federal Reserve had taken it in turns to provide the guard of honour. Dignitaries from all over the world had flown in to pay their respects.

Now, on the concluding stage of its final journey, the casket mounted on a carriage specially constructed for the occasion, was pulled by a coterie of 100 silver-collared bankers, billionaires, celebrity traders, venture capitalists and speculators from the world’s most affluent nations, who had won that distinction by entering a faux lottery conducted by the New York State Gaming Commission.

After them, walking arm in arm, marched politicians and leaders from the wealthiest of nations. Notable in terms of their absence were North Korea, Iraq, Syria, Cuba, Yemen, Iran and a few African nations who decided to boycott the ceremony. Oh, and Greece! But they were hardly missed. These rites were for the rich and wealthy. The poor were not welcome and had not been invited. If not before, they were now the enemy. 

It seemed only fitting that the casket was to be laid to rest under the marbled floor of the Goldman Sachs lobby in Wall Street. After all this is where the ultimate end-game, a ceremonial of lost innocence driven by greed and corruption, had been conceived.

Although a few ideologically colour blind economists like Paul Krugman had been warning us of its imminent demise for well over a decade, the final agonizing death throes of market fundamentalism had been a shock – mourned by millions from Wall Street to the Industrial Military Complex, the City of London, Singapore’s Temasek Corporation, and even some in the Chinese Politburo.

In the minds of many who worked in the global financial system this was truly the end of history. There was simply nothing that could take the place of capitalism. Now there was just an empty void - a vacuum in which economic growth and innovation would stall, wars would stop, the poor would start issuing a backlog of claims demanding equity, and the quality of life for several billion people would go downhill rapidly.

The end was always going to be a bitter affair. In an incendiary eulogy broadcast to a live television audience of almost 2.2 billion citizens, set against the sombre Libera Me from Faure's Requiem, industrialist Charles Koch and Davos founder Klaus Schwab berated progressive thinkers, activists and commons-based movements everywhere.

Led by the fantasies of ‘immature media celebrities’ like Naomi Klein, Michael Moore, George Monbiot and Russell Brand, along with ‘teenage brats’ like Greta Thunberg, Koch and Schwab identified a group of ‘losers and socialists’ they deemed culpable for destroying their capitalist system and ‘promoting the sad illusion of equality.’

The world is about to witness the true meaning of austerity, Koch raged. If compassion and other humanitarian ideals continue to embed, the poor will try to emulate the rich but will suffer for their impertinence. Then Schwab chimed in saying Those who call for a more equitable distribution of wealth, should be ashamed. They will preside over a massive catastrophe. People like us who have created jobs and given you the quality of life you enjoy today will never forgive them for wrecking our economic paradise, he insisted.

Of course there were others who, like myself, saw things slightly differently. For one thing the predatory nature of the ultra-right-wing capitalist death cult would no longer be able to funnel wealth from enslaved workers to the well-to-do. Easy credit leading to indebtedness would be a thing of the past. But I kept quiet. It was best not to be too outspoken on the very day the burden of capitalism had been lifted from our lives.

In truth the more obvious symptoms of consumption, control, wealth accumulation and misuse of money had been acknowledged for some time by bankers like Mark Carney, recently retired Governor of the Bank of England, and even billionaires like Ray Dalio. The symptoms were clearly indicative of a grave mental illness. But most people could not see that or had simply tried ignoring such a painful fact.

When the end came it was desolately undramatic – just a gradual slipping away into a demented state from which recovery was impossible. The coroner noted that although the corpse twitched for a while, all signs of intelligent life had disappeared by the time capitalism was pronounced dead…

Litanies:

I jest! Capitalism is not dead. It is not even on its deathbed. But then you knew that. And although it has been known to trigger a state of ruthless avarice in those who become too infatuated with the creation and hoarding of wealth, it is not yet in the Emergency Room.

Any economic-political system where trade and industry are owned and controlled by private individuals for their own profit, rather than by the commons or the state as their proxy, is bound to have some weaknesses. Capitalists argue that the merits of the system far outweigh a few slight shortcomings. But such rhetoric is not matched by the evidence. Once perhaps, but not now. From the demand for infinite growth in a finite world, inequalities between income and wealth, and the simulation of scarcity, to the use of unfettered competition to reduce prices, planned obsolescence to artificially boost sales, and privately-held riches choking off public wealth, capitalism is riddled with flaws.

The central premise of capitalism is that distribution of resources is achieved according to market supply and demand. This is an effective mechanism for ensuring those who already have money and resources get what they want - but useless at doing too much else. Rampant waste is inevitable in such an inefficient system - planned obsolescence merely adding to the problem. For example, anyone with money can start a business. No matter how wasteful it is, as long as it generates profits for its owners, it is permitted to survive. We go through cars, food, gadgets, cell phones, and clothes like there is no tomorrow. Ironically the entire structure virtually guarantees there will be no tomorrow if a disposable culture of this kind continues for much longer.

Meanwhile, although millions are starving to death and dying from easily preventable diseases, even in the most developed nations, we have decided as a society that toys and trivia are more important than children eating nutritious food, having access to health care, getting a decent education, and having the security of a family to love them.

In some countries people have learned to do more with less - to use sufficiency as a measure of wealth. In Cuba, for example, the lifetime of a car is 50 years, whereas in the US a 10 year old vehicle is ready for the scrap heap.  

In all fairness, the mechanism of the market, though never entirely 'free' as claimed by some, has been one of the many ways in which life has become better for millions of people. There is no denying capitalism has brought massive benefits to many – most notably to those who were already wealthy. But it has been a curse to others. It is this underbelly of greed and corruption that most concerns me. Purely in terms of design my litany of anxieties goes something like this…

In a world of collapsing systems the only path to redemption is through a paradigmatic shift in our most fundamental beliefs about what really matters, and what will work best for a majority of people. In other words a radical redesign of our shared convictions (or worldview), that manifest as the corporeal world-system (of which the global economy is a part) is sorely needed if the outcomes being generated by that world-system today are not what we intend, and do not live up to our expectations.

That is easier said than done for we are all deeply entangled in, and provided for, by that same world-system. It is the air we breathe and the soundscape enveloping us. It is the leaders we most admire, the entertainment we seek, the friends we keep, the food we eat and the language we use to express our most intimate thoughts. It is innate, and we take it for granted. So how can those of us who have the means and influence to do so, possibly oppose this system when we are all so obviously beholden to it?

In 2015 I listened to Anand Giridharadas delivering an incendiary speech at the Aspen Institute Action Forum. The theme was generosity versus justice. His unusually frank and forthright oration to a youthful, mainly affluent audience, continues to resonate with me to this day - particularly in terms of the following dilemma:

We subscribe to a consensus that some things can be discussed but that other, equally important matters, can not. This tacit agreement determines what we will not question, even as we need to question so much.

He has a valid point. But this consensus is not just confined to a small group of young people from the Aspen Global Leadership Forum. It is the prevailing ethos of our time.

Our tacit compliance with neoliberal economics has become the basis of a worldview that has brought wealth and prosperity to many, and who now find its relevance too distressing to challenge for fear of losing what they have. But it is also the consensus of a world-system that is no longer sustainable, or even beneficial, to the majority of the human family.

In a world where generosity can become a surrogate for justice, why are we so willing to turn rationality upside down by encouraging entrepreneurially gifted business men and women, inheritors of family fortunes, along with obscenely wealthy industrialists, to continue making money through all the usual business channels, just as long as they give something back? A token playground for urban kids perhaps? Some free tickets to a concert for a little girl dying of cancer? A mentoring program for high-potential women? Such is the stuff of corporate social responsibility, a euphemism for spending the least amount of money to make sure our customers view us as decent people who care about the community so they are inclined to buy more of our product.

To an extent these actions might assuage our feelings of guilt. And I do not discount the well-intentioned social policies of those companies who genuinely try to 'do good' within their local communities. But what long-term benefits actually accrue? How does these micro-actions change the plight of anyone? Wealthy individuals and good corporate citizens may both feel virtuous about softening the harshness of a system that cares so little for the underprivileged. But ultimately their aim is to preserve that system at all costs.

As Anand Giridharadas reflects: Sometimes, I find myself wondering what we’re actually doing here in Aspen. Are we here to change the system, or be changed by it? Are we using our collective strength to challenge the powerful, or are we helping to make an unjust, unpalatable system, feel a little more digestible?How is it rational or ethical to keep contributing to the disease we are purporting to treat?

The fundamental question remains. What should we do when trapped between the good intentions and generosity of wealthy people who want to use their good fortune to give back to the community, and the defensive mechanism that must always be the instinctive reflex of those who have so much to lose by changing a system in such a way that their generous gifts became superfluous?