Showing posts with label Neoliberalism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Neoliberalism. Show all posts

Thursday, March 13, 2008

A rich free-market legacy - for some

CapitalismBy Henry C K Liu
(View Original)

The financial crisis that broke out in August 2007 has stirred a revival of the latent populism that had been effectively suppressed by blanket anti-left hysteria during the Cold War. Despite residual psycho-political phobia, such indigenous populism has been simmering upward from deep-freeze depths after two decades of debt-driven financial and trade globalization in the post-Cold War era. Globalization of deregulated trade and finance has produced spectacular wealth for an elite minority at the expense of the wage-earning majority even in boom time all over the world.

Income and wealth disparities have been the legacy of free market capitalism, dictated by the call of neo-liberal supply-side economic theory for concentration of wealth to achieve indispensable capital formation. While internationally, the United States has been the clear beneficiary of "free trade" which dilutes the authority of national sovereignty to institute defensive protectionism, stagnant wages in the face of high corporate profits from outsourcing jobs overseas have left US workers in manufacturing worse off than their parents.

Global cross-border wage arbitrage has succeeded in keeping wages low around the world. But the decline in working-class fortune in the US had been masked by an exponential rise is home prices in a debt bubble that provided temporary phantom "wealth effect" to working families suffering the imperceptible real wage decline.

Now with the bursting of the debt bubble, while the culpable financial elite are walking away with equally spectacular severance packages after ringing in billion in market losses, the investing pension funds of helpless workers are unwittingly taking heavy hits and the social service entitlement for the working poor are further squeezed by ruthless corporate restructuring.

Looking for culprits
In a congressional hearing on executive pay held on March 7 by the House Committee on Oversight and Investigations, Republican committee members lined up to defend the extraordinarily high executive pay accumulated during years of handsome corporate profit made possible by the blatant global manipulation of debt.

The Republicans dutifully rationalized that these executives also suffered financial losses in the recent collapse of the debt market, albeit such losses only reduce their departing compensation from high nine figures to low nine figures. No executive has yet been forced to lose their second or third vacation homes, while many working families are forced out of their primary residences by the "bad judgement" of these executives.

The committee chairman, Representative Henry A Waxman, Democrat of California, said in an opening remark: "There seem to be two economic realities operating in our country today. Most Americans live in a world where economic security is precarious and there are real economic consequences for failure. But our nation’s top executives seem to live by a different set of rules. When companies fail to perform, should they give millions of dollars to their senior executives?"

Republicans on the committee reject the very premise of the hearing. Darrell E Issa, Republican of California, asked rhetorically: "This is a hearing in search of bad guys. Are there bad guys in front of me? I’m not seeing it."

Yet while Chuck Prince may not look like a bad guy to Representative Issa, the Citigroup chief executive did tell the Financial Times on July 10 2007, 15 days before the outbreak of the liquidity crisis, that "the party would end at some point but there was so much liquidity it would not be disrupted by the turmoil in the US subprime mortgage market." Prince denied that Citigroup, one of the biggest providers of finance to private equity deals and collateralized debt obligation instruments, was pulling back. "When the music stops, in terms of liquidity, things will be complicated. But as long as the music is playing, you’ve got to get up and dance. We’re still dancing," he said in an interview with the FT in Japan. Things in deed got "complicated" two week later.

Representative Issa failed to understand that if he cannot see "bad guys" among the movers and shakers of the market because they were merely playing according to the rules of the game, then he does not enjoy the luxury of absolving deregulated free market capitalism as the real culprit of massive financial destruction. (Capitalism’s bad apples: It’s the barrel that’s rotten, Asia Times Online, August 1, 2002)

Prince admitted in front of the committee: "Last fall, it became apparent that the risk models which Citigroup, the various rating agencies and the rest of the financial community used to assess certain mortgage backed securities were wrong. As CEO, I was ultimately responsible for the actions of the company, including risk models that eventually proved inadequate."

The error these risk models made was not taking into consideration the possibility of massive market failure, a condition considered too unreal to be taken seriously since it was expected that the Federal Reserve, the nation’s central bank, would step in to keep markets functioning.

In a 1998 testimony before Congress, Greenspan said:

We should note that were banks required by the market, or their regulator, to hold 40% capital against assets as they did after the Civil War, there would, of course, be far less moral hazard and far fewer instances of fire-sale market disruptions. At the same time, far fewer banks would be profitable, the degree of financial intermediation less, capital would be more costly, and the level of output and standards of living decidedly lower. Our current economy, with its wide financial safety net, fiat money, and highly leveraged financial institutions, has been a conscious choice of the American people since the 1930s. We do not have the choice of accepting the benefits of the current system without its costs.
The risk of market failure was apparently a conscious choice of monetary policy.

Systemic market failure was alluded to by several witnesses and committee members in the hearing but the issue was deemed out of the jurisdiction of the committee and the particular aim of this hearing, and was categorically brushed aside unanswered.

Tom Davis, the ranking Republican minority member from Virginia, said that even if the executives had been paid nothing, there would still be a housing crisis. And Mr Issa emphasized that all of the executives were primarily rewarded with stock, meaning they have suffered alongside shareholders as the value of financial stocks has plummeted.

Yet it is a commonly known fact that executive compensation tied to annual performance has become an irresistible incentive for top management to take on increased risks for the companies they manage, at the expense of the long-term wellbeing of the company and by extension, of the economy. The system has been designed to push risk to the limit until it fails.

John Finnegan, chairman of Merrill’s compensation committee, when asked why E Stanley O’Neal, former chairman and CEO of Merrill Lynch & Co Inc, was permitted to retire rather than being forced out for cause, replied that if O’Neal had been fired, he would have forfeited the $131 million in stock and options he had earned in prior years. Finnegan added that "cause" involved only unethical behavior, not bad judgment. In other words, the fault was with the system, not the individual who responds to the system’s incentives. "To say you don’t have the tools, it means that even if someone performs badly there are no consequences," Waxman retorted.

Emphasizing that the compensation process at Merrill was "appropriate" and "independent", he said: "It is true that top executives at public companies in the United States, especially in the financial services industry, are highly compensated. But a great percentage of that compensation, certainly for me, was and is at risk. When the business does well, all shareholders do well. But if the business does not do well, the value of that compensation can plummet."

O’Neal of Merrill retained more than $161 million after he "retired" honorably in October on top of the $70 million he took home during his four-year tenure. The bulk of the exit pay was linked to previously earned benefits and exercised stock options. Since his departure was deemed a retirement, O’Neal did not receive any severance pay. Merrill Lynch, meanwhile, had announced write-offs totaling more than $10.3 billion by the time O’Neal left, causing its stock price go into free fall. The write-off was partly funded by profit earned under the four "good" years of O’Neal’s tenure.

Prince of Citigroup collected $110 million while presiding over the evaporation of roughly $64 billion in market capitalization. He left Citigroup in November 2007 with an exit package worth $68 million, including $29.5 million in accumulated stock, a $1.7 million pension, office with an assistant, and a car with driver.

Citigroup’s board also awarded Prince a cash bonus worth about $10 million for 2007, largely based on his performance in 2006 when the bank’s results were better. Citigroup announced write-offs worth roughly $20 billion in 2007 and saw its share plummet over 60% from 2006 high.

Angelo Mozilo of Countrywide had taken home more than $410 million since becoming chief executive in 1999, including several stock sales made under an automatic plan while the company was buying back shares in an apparent conflict of interest. Federal securities regulators are scrutinizing those trades, as is the FBI. And in a report released on March 6, a day before the hearing, congressional investigators found that the use of a flawed peer group and easy bonus targets helped inflate Mozilo’s pay. He also had been entitled to a $37.5 million severance package, though he forfeited that in January, shortly after Congress requested that he testify.

Representative Elijah E Cummings, Democrat from Maryland, noted that, "We’ve got golden parachutes drifting off to the golf course and have people I see every day who are losing their homes and wondering where their kids will do their homework."

And Mozilo, noting that "our stock price appreciated over 23,000%" from 1982 to 2007, said he received performance-based bonuses approved by shareholders and exercised options as he prepared for retirement. "In short, as our company did well, I did well," he said.

Waxman ended the hearing by complimenting the witnesses on their extraordinary individual tales and for their service to their firms. But he added with a straight face, "It seems like everyone is hurting except for you."

No one even on the Democratic side bothered to ask, while working families lost homes that constituted a major part of their total assets accumulated over years of hard work, why these executives who were responsible for such disastrous results should not be made to disgorge their accumulated gains to reimburse the victims of their manipulative perfidy. While populism is in the air, it has obviously not infiltration to congressional committee hearing rooms.

In prepared testimony, Prince focused on his humble beginnings, as the first member of his family to go to college and O’Neal, an African American, revealed that his grandfather was a slave. The two executives personify the admirable socio-economic mobility in the US financial system. Yet one would expect that people of humble origins and minority background to be embedded with sensitivity about the powerlessness of the poor to protect themselves from iniquitous manipulations beyond their comprehension, let alone control. Apparently, social mobility is possible in US society only if one leaves behind one’s populist baggage.

Since last August, when the credit crisis exploded to spread over the entire financial market that now threatens the US economy with a sever recession exacerbated by stagflation that promises to be protracted, populist rhetoric has been growing in volume in the final phase of the year-long presidential nomination campaigns of both political parties, even by the front-running candidates, with an eye to capitalize widespread voter discontent in November.

While the specifics of populist reaction to recurring financial and economic crises over the ages are not congruent, as contentious issues and reactions to them change with evolving new contexts and conditions over time, populism has deep roots in US political and economic history along the theme of the people being unhappy about perpetually getting the short end of the stick from a system run by the elite.

Populism against giantism
Historically, populism in the US emerged as a logical reaction to the emergence over a century ago of industrial capitalism, the abuses of which had left the masses of working people a legacy not much better than slavery. The free market, by not extending itself to include the labor market to equalize market power disparity between capital and labor, has merely commercialized the despicable institution of slavery, despite official emancipation.

Populism began as a movement to actively seek effective government regulation over a pro-capital free market monetary system that discriminated against the weak and the poor through banking monopolies that practiced unequal and unfair distribution of credit, transportation policies that discriminated against small dependent users, particularly with high freight rates that farmers must pay to bring their produce to market, and the unlimited predatory powers of big money trusts and giant market monopolies. The overall populist aim was to limit the growing uneven market power of the combination of big finance and big business.

To achieve this aim, populists realized that common citizens must regain control of the political process to reverse the pervasive influence of big business on government and to restore popular democracy. Both Democrats and Whigs in US political history championed republican principles, but the two parties held conflicting assumptions about the nature of government authority, the correct path to economic development, and true meaning of individual rights. These conflicting assumptions form the ideological struggle behind the sectional conflict that eventually led to the Civil War.

The emphasis on popular democracy by historical populism, with its programs of monetary, financial and political reforms, was resisted by big finance and big business as counterintuitive to the natural needs of modern economic systems and the national security requirement of modern states, let alone the aspiration of a young nation to become a major world power and eventually a superpower.

Yet this utilitarian argument is not supported by historical facts. Economic growth during the Industrial Revolution, and even in today’s sophisticated and complex milieu in the midst of a communication revolution, is driven not by large corporate dinosaurs, but mainly by new small business entrepreneurship through what Austrian economist Joseph Schumpeter (1883-1950) identified as "creative destruction". Alan Greenspan tirelessly applied the concept of "creative destruction" to explain the rise of US market capitalism through internal renewal and the growth in productivity in recent decades.

Yet the concept of "creative destruction" was originally presented by Russian collectivist anarchist Mikhail Alexandrovich Bakunin (1814-76) based on the ideas of Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel (1770-1831) and Karl Marx (1818-1883), whose Communist Manifesto was written with Friedrich Engels (1820-95) in response to the democratic revolutions of 1848.

The case of Microsoft is a perfect modern-day example of a small, home-grown maverick entrepreneur that exploited the growing power of the personal computer through standardization of stand-alone operating system software to outpace IBM, the early giant of the computer age. But in record time Microsoft morphed into a gigantic monster more lethal to technological progress than the monopolistic industrial giants it managed to cut down to size.

An earlier case is Thomas Edison, a self-educated man with little formal scientific education, who gave birth to the modern energy sector not by discovering electricity but by inventing and obtaining a patent for an inexpensive filament for the vacuum light bulb. The Edison Electric Company soon grew into a rapacious monopoly that a century later was broken up by anti-trust legislation into General Electric and Con Edison.

The study of deafness by Alexander Bell, a Scottish immigrant doctor, led him to invent the telephone that became the monopolistic mammoth AT&T, also known as Ma Bell. John D Rockefeller began as a small business accountant and went on to assemble the monopolistic Standard Oil Trust by unfair trade practices. Industrial and financial giants have a long history of creating wealth not from original innovation but by subsequent predatory acquisition of successful smaller competing enterprises.

Further, anti-populist sociologists sponsored by big business argue that with urbanization being a key prerequisite for economic development, the populist ideal of small-town life based on decentralized socio-political organization and local control had been problematic in the age of industrial expansion. By extension, this problem continues into the age of economic and financial globalization that requires suppression of national sovereignty and economic nationalism to facilitate the unimpaired cross-border movement of funds and goods, albeit not of workers.

Yet new advances in communication and data management have made such centralist arguments invalid. Large, complex organizations can now be devised through computerized communication without destroying the individuality of numerous component parts. Mass production of unique one-of-a-kind products is now routinely possible. Decentralized networks of assembly are increasingly practiced for complex products such as aircraft.

For example, the Internet, by providing access to instant communication among countless individuals detached from physical propinquity, has diluted the controlling power of big mass media organizations. The irony is that the privileged and powerful elite have effectively sought refuge from populist threats through the devious exploitation of the constitutional principle of minority rights which originally had been framed for protection of the weak and powerless. The term "minority" was originally intended to denote the less powerful, not merely the smaller number.

Jacksonian populism
The election of 62-year-old populist Andrew Jackson in 1828 as president over incumbent establishmentarian candidate John Quincy Adam (in office 1825-29), son of Federalist president John Adam (in office 1797-1801), the second holder of the nation’s highest office after George Washington (in office 1780-97), marked the revolutionary victory of government by and for the common people, even if, notwithstanding unfounded conservative fear, not quite yet of the people.

The late Arthur Schlesinger Jr (1917-2007), who had been catapulted into instant fame at age 28 by winning the 1945 Pulitzer Prize for his Age of Jackson, and went on to a long, illustrious career as official historiographer of the Kennedy administration, describes that period in US history as one of shifting from sectional conflict to class conflict created by the triumph of the industrial revolution over the agricultural economy. Schlesinger turned history backward to cast Jackson as a reformer in the mold of Franklin D. Roosevelt.

The Jackson-FDR-Kennedy tradition
In a 2006 interview on Public Television, Schlesinger accused Democratic president Bill Clinton (in office 1993-2001) of breaking with the Jackson-FDR-Kennedy liberal tradition of interventionist government to rein in the excesses of market capitalism by adopting neo-liberalism, siding with the Republican ideal of small non-interventionist government. Schlesinger, a quintessential liberal, acknowledged in the interview that the two failures of US liberal capitalism have been unmitigated racial inequality and persistent disparity of income. This criticism was very much on target, albeit that the liberal formula of meliorism had been patently ineffective in correcting these two failures after more than a century of reform.

Schlesinger earlier had accused Noam Chomsky, brilliant linguist and highly respected icon of the intellectual left and activist opponent of the Vietnam War, of "betraying the intellectual tradition", to which Chomsky responded in a 1992 BBC interview by John Pilger by agreeing with undisguised pride, adding that "the intellectual tradition is one of servility to power and if I didn’t betray it I’d be ashamed of myself."

Chomsky added that the members of "the liberal intelligentsia of America are in bed with the US government in some of its more vicious policies around, as they applied around the world." He characterized the liberal intelligentsia of the Kennedy era as "a secular priesthood".

In a February 28, 2007 obituary on Schlesinger written by Douglas Martin, Gore Vidal, a rebellious member of the Democratic aristocracy, was reported to have characterized Schlesinger’s A Thousand Days on the JFK presidency "a political novel". Vidal’s mother, Nina Gore, married Hugh D Auchincloss Jr, later stepfather of Jacqueline Bouvier Kennedy. A fifth cousin of Vidal is Jimmy Carter and a cousin is Al Gore.

Back in the 1824 election, although Jackson received more popular and electoral votes than Adam, neither received a majority in the Electoral College, leaving the final choice of Adam as a minority president being made by the House of Representatives. Four years later, the voice of the people was finally heard with Jackson receiving a plurality in popular vote and a definitive majority of 178 to 83 in electoral votes over incumbent Adam, who lost because of his unresponsive attitude to the rising spirit of popular democracy. It was a replay of the elder Adam’s defeat in 1800 after serving only one term by Thomas Jefferson (in office 1801-09), the father of American popular democracy.

With his background as a leading member of the frontier upper class, Jackson’s personal exposure and innate honesty left him convinced that privileged big business routinely enjoyed the upper hand over the average individual citizen. His main political view was expressed in his farewell address:
Government should be administered for the planter, the farmer, the mechanic and the laborer who form the great body of the people of the United States. These classes all know that their success depends upon their own industry and economy, and that they must not expect to become suddenly rich by the fruits of their toils. Yet they are in constant danger of losing their fair influence as a result of the power which the moneyed interest derived from a paper currency which they are able to control and from the multitude of corporations with exclusive privileges which they have succeeded in obtaining in the different states.
Populist battle over banking
In the election of 1832, Jackson won a second term by defeating Henry Clay, the vocal spokesman for US economic nationalism. Clay’s "American System" called for high protective tariff up to 25% to help budding domestic industries, the establishment of a national bank to resist domination by foreign capital and government assistance to private enterprise in the development of a national transportation and communication infrastructure. The main issue in the 1832 campaign was whether the charter of the Second Bank of the United States should be renewed for another 20 years.

The First Bank of the United States had been established by Congress in 1791 as a national bank at the recommendation of Alexander Hamilton, legitimized by the Supreme Court on the doctrine of "implied power" of the Federal government. The Bank had been opposed by Jefferson on constitutional and ideological grounds. Jefferson felt the Bank would give excessive power over the national economy to a small group of private investors who would make unconscionably large profits. He preferred small state banks with moderate inflationary tendency to help small farmers shackled with cyclical debts. He waged his opposition on constitutional grounds that the chartering of it was not specifically authorized by the constitution. But the argument was overruled by the Supreme Court.

In 1811, Congress voted to abandon the First Bank and its charter but the Second Bank was chartered four years later in 1816 to handle sovereign debts from the War of 1812. By 1832, the Second Bank had operated successfully as a national bank to support the development of the US economy for 16 years, providing finance for an economic boom, particularly in agriculture brought about by the devastation of Europe caused by the Napoleonic Wars.

The Second Bank provided easy credit to finance farm land speculation, tripling land prices in a decade. Land sales in 1819 alone totaled over 55 million acres, feeding a speculative bubble froth with fraud. The financial gains of the boom went mostly to speculators rather than farmers. In the summer of 1818, the Bank started to call in loans to reduce risk its exposure and caused the Panic of 1819 that drove many farmers bankrupt from excessive debt.

Although the Bank’s latest charter extension would not expire until 1836, Clay advised the Second Bank to request renewal in the spring of 1832. Clay needed the Second Bank to support his American System of economic nationalism, but he underestimated the unpopularity of the Second Bank throughout the West as a result of the financial crisis of 1819. By preventing the state banks from issuing notes and making loans freely and independently, the Bank limited the supply of money in the Western states and thereby kept their population permanently in debt to Eastern moneyed interests.

But unlike the inflationist farmers, Jackson was not only critical of the concept of a national bank but of the role all banks played in exploiting the financially weak. Jackson believed sound money backed by gold and silver was the only friend of the people as private banks always abuse their power to issue money to encourage and profit from speculation, producing periods of inflation followed inevitably by periods of financial crisis and deflationary depression that would ruin honest citizens trapped by inescapable debt. In their distrust of banks, Jacksonians found validation in ample, visible field evidence, but their resultant faith in specie currency ran against the need of a growing economy for a more elastic currency than could be provided by the comparative static supply of precious metals.

More to the point, Jackson held a populist belief that the concept of a national bank was a threat to popular democracy. His view was validated by the behavior of Nicholas Biddle, a member of the Philadelphian financial elite, who had been president of the Second Bank since 1823, and who, after 1829, with the Jackson White House threatening the future of the Bank, began seeking political support by lending large sums without collateral to key Congressmen and influential newspaper owners and editors without pressing them for repayment.

Jackson then appointed Roger Taney as Treasury Secretary (in office 1833-34) who transferred government funds from the Second Bank of the United States to state banks on ground of the Bank had become a risky institution. The Bank ran on though the remains of its existing charter and restructured as a state banks after the charter expired in 1836.

Tocqueville warning
Alexis de Tocqueville, French sociologist, published Democracy in America in 1836, which observed with clear insight that the "primary fact" behind American democracy was a "general condition of equality". People in America, he observed, were "on a greater equality in point of fortune and intellect, or, in other words, more equal in their strengths than any other country in the world, or any other age of which history has preserved its remembrance."

Tocqueville admired the energy and versatility of the Americans he encountered, their high Protestant moral standards and their willingness and ability to achieve social progress by forming voluntary associations instead of being dependent on government. Such qualities were the natural result of an environment of abundance in which individual self-help could produce a good living without interference from government or private oppression.

Or the other hand, with equal insight, Tocqueville warned of the danger of Americans being pushed into an economic system excessively intent on making money, and that their wholesome founding culture was consequently in danger of being too commercialized. He predicted, with amazing accuracy, that the initial equality among Americans might eventually be endangered by the domination of a new industrialist/financier class.

To Tocqueville, political democracy cannot exist without economic democracy which is always threatened by concentration of wealth. Throughout its history and up to the present time, the disconnection between political democracy and economic democracy remains the weak spot in American society. The problem is not merely a disparity of wealth, but more fundamentally, an unequal gap of opportunities and market power.

The Civil War and big business
Prior to the Civil War which began in July 1861, big business had not enjoyed such clear-cut favoritism from government. The agrarian leaders who controlled the Federal government during 1801 and 1861 had regarded individual property in land as more deserving of government protection than corporate property.

The logic for this belief is that a corporation, by virtue of its nature as an exclusive collection of real persons, is more powerful than any single real person. By granting such an exclusionary collection of select individuals the same protection the Constitution granted to each and every real individual citizen is a distortion of democratic principles of equal protection. It is particularly inequitable when the rights of exclusionary collectivism are protected as the expense of the rights of communal collectivism.

Moreover, the basic raison d’etre of government is its role of protecting the weak, those who could not otherwise protect themselves. Giving powerful corporations the same government protection intended for each powerless private individual separately amounts to a perversion of individual rights as well as the principle of equally before the law, and constitutes a direct threat to the principles of democracy.

After 1835, with Roger Taney (in office 1835-64) appointed by Andrew Jackson (in office 1829-37) to succeed John Marshall as Chief Justice (in office 1801-35), the Supreme Court took a different position to rein in Federalist centralization. Whereas Marshall had extended the "implied power" of the Federal government over the states, Taney ruled to protect those powers of the states that the Constitution had not specifically granted the Federal government, upholding state rights to regulate commerce within their borders and to adopt and enforce economic policies of their own to suit local conditions and traditions for the benefit of citizens within their separate jurisdictions. Whereas Marshal has ruled religiously to uphold the sanctity of contracts and the right of private property, Taney ruled for the right of states to regulate private property rights to promote common welfare.

In 1837, the Charles River Bridge Company, chartered in 1786 by the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, having made enormous profits from tolls on a bridge between Boston and Cambridge, claimed that the terms of its charter forbade the construction of a competitive bridge. The people of Massachusetts authorized a second bridge to relieve traffic congestion and to abolish tolls as the cost of the first bridge had been more than paid for the by its monopolistic tolls. The shareholders of the monopoly brought suit to stop the second bridge.

Taney ruled in an epoch-making decision, declaring that the public interest was more important than the alleged property rights of the private bridge corporation. In his ruling, Taney wrote: "While the rights of private property are sacredly guarded, we must not forget that the community also has rights, and that the happiness and well-being of every citizen depends on their faithful preservation."

Taney died in 1864, the year the Civil War ended, and was replaced by Salmon P Chase, former Treasury Secretary under Lincoln and former leader of the Free Soil Party, which opposed the expansion of slavery into the western territories.

Progress as illegitimate child of politics
Progress is often the illegitimate child of politics. The same ironic metamorphosis would apply to Richard Nixon, lifelong anti-communist, who would be able to achieve as President a historic opening to communist China in 1973 as a grand strategy in superpower geopolitics, after a quarter of a century of ideological estrangement between the two nations, while a similar attempt by a liberal Democrat, such as John F Kennedy, would have to face domestic accusation of being soft on Communism.

It would take anti-abolitionist Abraham Lincoln (in office 1861-1865), who gained attention early in his political career as a pragmatic segregationist cloaked under the high-minded rhetoric of democratic ideals, to finally overcome his previous political rationalization and to make peace with his personal morals to issue the Emancipation Proclamation in 1862.

Lincoln came into national prominence in the Lincoln-Douglas debates during the 1858 Senate campaign by shrewdly trapping his opponent, Stephen A Douglas (1813-1861), into introducing the anti-slavery Freeport doctrine, permitting the new territories to exclude slavery in the name of popular sovereignty. The compromise proposed by Douglas, in spite of the Dred Scott decision by the Taney Supreme Court a year earlier in 1857 ruling that slavery could not constitutionally be excluded from any territory, cost Douglas much popular support, particularly among pro-slavery Southern Democrats, even after his insistence on his personal indifference to the immorality of slavery.

Lincoln, the man who had oppose the exclusion of slavery in the new territories with his perversely righteous and dubiously motivated declaration: "A house divided against itself cannot stand", and who would declare himself to be personally opposed to racial equality, would end up abolishing slavery for the whole nation four years later as a political expedience brought about by a poorly conducted, ongoing civil war, notwithstanding his earlier belief that while "Negroes" should enjoy the right to life, liberty and pursuit of happiness promised to all men by the Declaration of Independence, the extinction of slavery could only be a gradual and lengthy process, with no near-term target date.

American attitude toward the issue of slavery in her history is clouded by a fundamental conflict between its self-image and historical facts. The majority of Americans continue to be abolitionists in public and pro-slavery in private. It shows up in every debate on social issues even today.

War saved the Union, destroyed democracy
The Civil War, which lasted from 1861 to 1865, saved the United States from being partitioned by secession, a fact conveniently overlooked by those in Washington who now support secessionist movements around the world, the latest being the secession of Kosovo from Bosnia.

Still, the Civil War was not followed, as Lincoln had hoped, by fraternal love, mutual forgiveness and reconciliation. Most Southerners at the end of the fighting in 1865 were resigned to the need to accept the supremacy of the Federal government and the abolition of the institution of slavery and to move on to the urgent task of rebuilding their war-torn home region where all the fighting had taken place.

But not withstanding Lincoln’s inspiring words of "with malice towards none; with charity toward all", Southern sentiments of reconciliation were not reciprocated by a hostile North, where an attitude to treat the South as a conquered territory, the root institutions of which required wholesale reconstruction, lasted more than a decade after war ended. It was not until 1877 that the Union was finally restored along a path towards terms that would be both fair and acceptable to the South.

After Appomattox, where Robert E Lee surrendered to Ulysses S Grant on April 9, 1865, with Lincoln assassinated five days later on April 15, the returning Confederate soldiers found their home country in an indescribable state of ruin and disorganization. The communication and transportation infrastructure was totally destroyed by the vengeful armies of Sherman and Sheridan. The final phases of the war had degenerated from a patriotic undertaking on the part of the North to subdue the South’s will to secede, to a frenzied orgy of savage destruction.

The war debt accumulated by the Confederate government that had absorbed all the savings of the South became worthless in defeat and all Southern banks and insurance companies that held such debt instruments were left insolvent.

The devastation of the Southern economy did not end with the war. The Federal Treasury confiscated all properties of the Confederate government. Federal agents, many of whom were dishonest, exploited the confiscation order to loot the Southern agricultural economy to enrich themselves personally while they transferred wealth northward to support the costly transition of the war economy of the North in peace time. With the defeat of the South went the defeat of popular democracy and the triumph of big business corporatism.

Thursday, January 17, 2008

Revolution of the Snails: Encounters with the Zapatistas

by Rebecca Solnit
(view original)

I grew up listening to vinyl records, dense spirals of information that we played at 33-1/3 revolutions per minute. The original use of the word revolution was in this sense — of something coming round or turning round, the revolution of the heavenly bodies, for example. It’s interesting to think that just as the word radical comes from the Latin word for “roots” and meant going to the root of a problem, so revolution originally means to rotate, to return, or to cycle, something those who live according to the agricultural cycles of the year know well.

Only in 1450, says my old Oxford Etymological Dictionary, does it come to mean “an instance of a great change in affairs or in some particular thing.” 1450: 42 years before Columbus sailed on his first voyage to the not-so-new world, not long after Gutenberg invented moveable type in Europe, where time itself was coming to seem less cyclical and more linear — as in the second definition of this new sense of revolution in my dictionary, “a complete overthrow of the established government in any country or state by those who were previously subject to it.”

We live in revolutionary times, but the revolution we are living through is a slow turning around from one set of beliefs and practices toward another, a turn so slow that most people fail to observe our society revolving — or rebelling. The true revolutionary needs to be as patient as a snail. 0116_06a

The revolution is not some sudden change that has yet to come, but the very transformative and questioning atmosphere in which all of us have lived for the past half century, since perhaps the Montgomery Bus Boycott in 1955, or the publication of Rachel Carson’s attack on the corporate-industrial-chemical complex, Silent Spring, in 1962; certainly, since the amazing events of 1989, when the peoples of Eastern Europe nonviolently liberated themselves from their Soviet-totalitarian governments; the people of South Africa undermined the white apartheid regime of that country and cleared the way for Nelson Mandela to get out of jail; or, since 1992, when the Native peoples of the Americas upended the celebration of the 500th anniversary of Columbus’s arrival in this hemisphere with a radical rewriting of history and an assertion that they are still here; or even 1994, when this radical rewriting wrote a new chapter in southern Mexico called Zapatismo.

Five years ago, the Zapatista revolution took as one of its principal symbols the snail and its spiral shell. Their revolution spirals outward and backward, away from some of the colossal mistakes of capitalism’s savage alienation, industrialism’s regimentation, and toward old ways and small things; it also spirals inward via new words and new thoughts. The astonishing force of the Zapatistas has come from their being deeply rooted in the ancient past — “we teach our children our language to keep alive our grandmothers” said one Zapatista woman — and prophetic of the half-born other world in which, as they say, many worlds are possible. They travel both ways on their spiral.

Revolutionary Landscapes

At the end of 2007, I arrived on their territory for a remarkable meeting between the Zapatista women and the world, the third of their encuentros since the 1994 launch of their revolution. Somehow, among the miracles of Zapatista words and ideas I read at a distance, I lost sight of what a revolution might look like, must look like, on the ground — until late last year when I arrived on that pale, dusty ground after a long ride in a van on winding, deeply rutted dirt roads through the forested highlands and agricultural clearings of Chiapas, Mexico. The five hours of travel from the big town of San Cristobal de las Casas through that intricate landscape took us past countless small cornfields on slopes, wooden houses, thatched pigsties and henhouses, gaunt horses, a town or two, more forest, and then more forest, even a waterfall.
Everything was green except the dry cornstalks, a lush green in which December flowers grew. There were tree-sized versions of what looked like the common, roadside, yellow black-eyed susans of the American west and a palm-sized, lavender-pink flower on equally tall, airily branching stalks whose breathtaking beauty seemed to come from equal parts vitality, vulnerability, and bravura — a little like the women I listened to for the next few days.

The van stopped at the junction that led to the center of the community of La Garrucha. There, we checked in with men with bandannas covering the lower halves of their faces, who sent us on to a field of tents further uphill. The big sign behind them read, “You are in Territory of Zapatistas in Rebellion. Here the People Govern and the Government Obeys.” Next to it, another sign addressed the political prisoners from last year’s remarkable uprising in Oaxaca in which, for four months, the inhabitants held the city and airwaves and kept the government out. It concluded, “You are not alone. You are with us. EZLN.”

As many of you may know, EZLN stands for Ejército Zapatista de Liberación Nacional (Zapatista Army for National Liberation), a name akin to those from many earlier Latin American uprisings. The Zapatistas — mostly Mayan indigenous rebels from remote, rural communities of Chiapas, Mexico’s southernmost and poorest state — had made careful preparations for a decade before their January 1, 1994 uprising.

They began like conventional rebels, arming themselves and seizing six towns. They chose that first day of January because it was the date that the North American Free Trade Agreement went into effect, which meant utter devastation for small farmers in Mexico; but they had also been inspired by the 500th anniversary, 14 months before, of Columbus’s arrival in the Americas and the way native groups had reframed that half-millenium as one of endurance and injustice for the indigenous peoples of this hemisphere.

Their rebellion was also meant to take the world at least a step beyond the false dichotomy between capitalism and the official state socialism of the Soviet Union which had collapsed in 1991. It was to be the first realization of what needed to come next: a rebellion, above all, against capitalism and neoliberalism. Fourteen years later, it is a qualified success: many landless campesino families in Zapatista-controlled Chiapas now have land; many who were subjugated now govern themselves; many who were crushed now have a sense of agency and power. Five areas in Chiapas have existed outside the reach of the Mexican government, under their own radically different rules, since that revolution.

Beyond that, the Zapatistas have given the world a model — and, perhaps even more important, a language — with which to re-imagine revolution, community, hope, and possibility. Even if, in the near future, they were to be definitively defeated on their own territory, their dreams, powerful as they have been, are not likely to die. And there are clouds on the horizon: the government of President Felipe Calderón may turn what has, for the last 14 years, been a low-intensity conflict in Chiapas into a full-fledged war of extermination. A war on dreams, on hope, on rights, and on the old goals of the hero of the Mexican Revolution a century before, Emiliano Zapata: tierra y libertad, land and liberty.

The Zapatistas emerged from the jungle in 1994, armed with words as well as guns. Their initial proclamation, the First Declaration of the Lacandon Jungle, rang with familiar, outmoded-sounding revolutionary rhetoric, but shortly after the uprising took the world by storm, the Zapatistas’ tone shifted. They have been largely nonviolent ever since, except in self-defense, though they are ringed by the Mexican army and local paramilitaries (and maintain their own disciplined army, a long line of whose masked troops patrolled La Garrucha at night, armed with sticks). What shifted most was their language, which metamorphosed into something unprecedented — a revolutionary poetry full of brilliant analysis as well as of metaphor, imagery, and humor, the fruit of extraordinary imaginations.

Some of their current stickers and t-shirts — the Zapatistas generate more cool paraphernalia than any rock band — speak of “el fuego y la palabra,” the fire and the word. Many of those words came from the inspired pen of their military commander, the nonindigenous Subcomandante Marcos, but that pen reflected the language of a people whose memory is long and environment is rich — if not in money and ease, then in animals, images, traditions, and ideas.

Take, for example, the word caracol, which literally means snail or spiral shell. In August 2003, the Zapatistas renamed their five autonomous communities caracoles. The snail then became an important image. I noticed everywhere embroideries, t-shirts, and murals showing that land snail with the spiraling shell. Often the snail wore a black ski mask. The term caracol has the vivid vitality, the groundedness, that often escapes metaphors as they become part of our disembodied language.

When they reorganized as caracoles, the Zapatistas reached back to Mayan myth to explain what the symbol meant to them. Or Subcomandante Marcos did, attributing the story as he does with many stories to “Old Antonio,” who may be a fiction, a composite, or a real source of the indigenous lore of the region:

“The wise ones of olden times say that the hearts of men and women are in the shape of a caracol, and that those who have good in their hearts and thoughts walk from one place to the other, awakening gods and men for them to check that the world remains right. They say that they say that they said that the caracol represents entering into the heart, that this is what the very first ones called knowledge. They say that they say that they said that the caracol also represents exiting from the heart to walk the world…. The caracoles will be like doors to enter into the communities and for the communities to come out; like windows to see us inside and also for us to see outside; like loudspeakers in order to send far and wide our word and also to hear the words from the one who is far away.”


The caracoles are clusters of villages, but described as spirals they reach out to encompass the whole world and begin from within the heart. And so I arrived in the center of one caracol, a little further up the road from those defiant signs, in the broad, unpaved plaza around which the public buildings of the village of La Garrucha are clustered, including a substantial two-story, half-built clinic. Walking across that clearing were Zapatista women in embroidered blouses or broad collars and aprons stitched of rows of ribbon that looked like inverted rainbows — and those ever-present ski masks in which all Zapatistas have appeared publicly since their first moment out of the jungles in 1994. (Or almost all, a few wear bandannas instead.)

That first glimpse was breathtaking. Seeing and hearing those women for the three days that followed, living briefly on rebel territory, watching people brave enough to defy an army and the world’s reigning ideology, imaginative enough to invent (or reclaim) a viable alternative was one of the great passages of my life. The Zapatistas had been to me a beautiful idea, an inspiration, a new language, a new kind of revolution. When they spoke at this Third Encounter of the Zapatista Peoples with the People of the World, they became a specific group of people grappling with practical problems. I thought of Martin Luther King Jr. when he said he had been to the mountaintop. I have been to the forest.

The Words of the Third Encounter

The encuentro was held in a big shed-like auditorium with a corrugated tin roof and crossbeams so long they could only have been hewn from local trees — they would never have made it around the bends in the local roads. The wooden walls were hung with banners and painted with murals. (One, of an armed Zapatista woman, said, “cellulite sí, anorexia, no.“) An unfinished mural showed a monumental ear of corn whose top half merged into the Zapatista ski mask, the eyes peering out of the corn. Among the embroideries local artisans offered were depictions of cornstalks with Zapatista faces where the ears would be. All of this — snails and corn-become-Zapatistas alike — portrayed the rebels as natural, pervasive, and fruitful.

Three or four times a day, a man on a high, roofed-over stage outside the hall would play a jaunty snippet of a tune on an organ and perhaps 250 of the colorfully dressed Zapatista women in balaclavas or bandannas would walk single file into the auditorium and seat themselves onstage on rows of backless benches. The women who had come from around the world to listen would gather on the remaining benches, and men would cluster around the back of the hall. Then, one caracol at a time, they would deliver short statements and take written questions. Over the course of four days, all five caracoles delivered reflections on practical and ideological aspects of their situation. Pithy and direct, they dealt with difficult (sometimes obnoxious) questions with deftness. They spoke of the challenge of living a revolution that meant autonomy from the Mexican government, but also of learning how to govern themselves and determine for themselves what liberty and justice mean.

The Zapatista rebellion has been feminist from its inception: Many of the comandantes are women — this encuentro was dedicated to the memory of deceased Comandante Ramona, whose image was everywhere — and the liberation of the women of the Zapatista regions has been a core part of the struggle. The testimonies addressed what this meant — liberation from forced marriages, illiteracy, domestic violence, and other forms of subjugation. The women read aloud, some of them nervous, their voices strained — and this reading and writing was itself testimony to the spread both of literacy and of Spanish as part of the revolution. The first language of many Zapatistas is an indigenous one, and so they spoke their Spanish with formal, declarative clarity. They often began with a formal address to the audience that spiraled outward: “hermanos y hermanas, compañeras y compañeros de la selva, pueblos del Mexico, pueblos del mundo, sociedad civile” — “brothers and sisters, companions of the rainforest, people of Mexico, people of the world, civil society.” And then they would speak of what revolution had meant for them.

“We had no rights,” one of them said about the era before the rebellion. Another added, “The saddest part is that we couldn’t understand our own difficulties, why we were being abused. No one had told us about our rights.”

“The struggle is not just for ourselves, it’s for everyone,” said a third. Another spoke to us directly: “We invite you to organize as women of the world in order to get rid of neoliberalism, which has hurt all of us.”

They spoke of how their lives had improved since 1994. On New Year’s Eve, one of the masked women declared:

“Who we think is responsible [for the oppressions] is the capitalist system, but now we no longer fear. They humiliated us for too long, but as Zapatistas no one will mistreat us. Even if our husbands still mistreat us, we know we are human beings. Now, women aren’t as mistreated by husbands and fathers. Now, some husbands support and help us and don’t make all the decisions — not in all households, but poco a poco. We invite all women to defend our rights and combat machismo.”


They spoke of the practical work of remaking the world and setting the future free, of implementing new possibilities for education, healthcare, and community organization, of the everyday workings of a new society. Some of them carried their babies — and their lives — onstage and, in one poignant moment, a little girl dashed across that stage to kiss and hug her masked mother. Sometimes the young daughters wore masks too.

A Zapatista named Maribel spoke of how the rebellion started, of the secrecy in which they met and organized before the uprising:

“We learned to advance while still hiding until January 1. This is when the seed grew, when we brought ourselves into the light. On January 1, 1994, we brought our dreams and hopes throughout Mexico and the world — and we will continue to care for this seed. This seed of ours we are giving for our children. We hope you all will struggle even though it is in a different form. The struggle [is] for everybody…”


The Zapatistas have not won an easy or secure future, but what they have achieved is dignity, a word that cropped up constantly during the encuentro, as in all their earlier statements. And they have created hope. Hope (esperanza) was another inescapable word in Zapatista territory. There was la tienda de esperanza, the unpainted wooden store of hope, that sold tangerines and avocados. A few mornings, I had café con leche and sweet rice cooked with milk and cinnamon at a comedor whose handlettered sign read: “Canteen of autonomous communities in rebellion…dreams of hope.” The Zapatista minibus was crowned with the slogan “the collective [which also means bus in Spanish] makes hope.”

After midnight, at the very dawn of the New Year, when men were invited to speak again, one mounted the platform from which the New Year’s dance music was blasting to say that he and the other men had listened and learned a lot.

This revolution is neither perfect nor complete — mutterings about its various shortcomings weren’t hard to hear from elsewhere in Mexico or the internationals at the encuentro (who asked many testing questions about these campesinas’ positions on, say, transgendered identity and abortion) — but it is an astonishing and fruitful beginning.

The Speed of Snails and Dreams

Many of their hopes have been realized. The testimony of the women dealt with this in specific terms: gains in land, rights, dignity, liberty, autonomy, literacy, a good local government that obeys the people rather than a bad one that tramples them. Under siege, they have created community with each other and reached out to the world.

Emerging from the jungles and from impoverishment, they were one of the first clear voices against corporate globalization — the neoliberal agenda that looked, in the 1990s, as though it might succeed in taking over the world. That was, of course, before the surprise shutdown of the World Trade Organization in Seattle in 1999 and other innovative, successful global acts of resistance against that agenda and its impact. The Zapatistas articulated just how audacious indigenous rebellion against invisibility, powerlessness, and marginalization could be — and this was before other indigenous movements from Bolivia to northern Canada took a share of real power in the Americas. Their image of “a world in which many worlds are possible” came to describe the emergence of broad coalitions spanning great differences, of alliances between hunter-gatherers, small-scale farmers, factory workers, human rights activists, and environmentalists in France, India, Korea, Mexico, Bolivia, Kenya, and elsewhere.

Their vision represented the antithesis of the homogenous world envisioned both by the proponents of “globalism” and by the modernist revolutions of the twentieth century. They have gone a long way toward reinventing the language of politics. They have been a beacon for everyone who wants to make a world that is more inventive, more democratic, more decentralized, more grassroots, more playful. Now, they face a threat from the Mexican government that could savage the caracoles of resistance, crush the rights and dignity that the women of the encuentro embodied even as they spoke of them — and shed much blood.

During the 1980s, when our government was sponsoring the dirty wars in Central America, two U.S. groups in particular countered those politics of repression, torture, and death. One was the Pledge of Resistance, which gathered the signatures of hundreds of thousands who promised to respond with civil disobedience if the U.S. invaded Sandinista-run Nicaragua or otherwise deepened its involvement with the dictatorships and death squads of Central America. Another was Witness for Peace, which placed gringos as observers and unarmed protectors in communities throughout Central America.

While killing or disappearing campesinos could be carried out with ease in countries like El Salvador and Guatemala, doing the same to U.S. citizens, or in front of them, was a riskier proposition. The Yankee witnesses used the privilege of their color and citizenship as a shield for others and then testified to what they saw. We have come to a moment when we need to strengthen the solidarity so many activists around the world have felt for the Zapatistas, strengthen it into something that can protect the sources of “the fire and the word” — the fire that has warmed so many who have a rebel heart, the word that has taught us to imagine the world anew.

The United States and Mexico both have eagles as their emblems, predators which attack from above. The Zapatistas have chosen a snail in a spiral shell, a small creature, easy to overlook. It speaks of modesty, humility, closeness to the earth, and of the recognition that a revolution may start like lightning but is realized slowly, patiently, steadily. The old idea of revolution was that we would trade one government for another and somehow this new government would set us free and change everything. More and more of us now understand that change is a discipline lived every day, as those women standing before us testified; that revolution only secures the territory in which life can change. Launching a revolution is not easy, as the decade of planning before the 1994 Zapatista uprising demonstrated, and living one is hard too, a faith and discipline that must not falter until the threats and old habits are gone — if then. True revolution is slow.

There’s a wonderful passage in Robert Richardson’s biography of Thoreau in which he speaks of the Europe-wide revolution of 1848 and says of the New England milieu and its proliferating cooperative communities at that time, “Most of the founders were more interested in building models, which would be emulated because they succeeded, than in the destruction of the existing order. Still American utopian socialism had much in common with the spirit of 1848.”

This says very directly that you can reach out and change the state and its institutions, which we recognize as revolution, or you can make your own institutions beyond the reach of the state, which is also revolutionary. This creating — rather than simply rebelling — has been much of the nature of revolution in our time, as people reinvent family, gender, food systems, work, housing, education, economics, medicine and doctor-patient relations, the imagination of the environment, and the language to talk about it, not to speak of more and more of everyday life. The fantasy of a revolution is that it will make everything different, and regime revolutions generally make a difference, sometimes a significantly positive one, but the making of radical differences in everyday life is a more protracted, incremental process. It’s where leaders are irrelevant and every life matters.

Give the Zapatistas time — the slow, unfolding time of the spiral and the journey of the snail — to keep making their world, the one that illuminates what else our lives and societies could be. Our revolution must be as different as our temperate-zone, post-industrial society is to their subtropical agrarianism, but also guided by the slow forces of dignity, imagination, and hope, as well as the playfulness they display in their imagery and language. The testimony in the auditorium ended late on December 31. At midnight, amid dancing, the revolution turned 14. May it long continue to spiral inward and outward.

The last time Rebecca Solnit camped out on rebel territory, she was an organizer for the Western Shoshone Defense Project that insists — with good legal grounds — that the Shoshone in Nevada had never ceded their land to the U.S. government. That story is told in her 1994 book Savage Dreams: A Journey into the Landscape Wars of the American West, but the subsequent inspiration of the Zapatistas is most evident in the book Tom Engelhardt helped her to bring into being, Hope in the Dark: Untold Histories, Wild Possibilities. She is 11 chapters into her next book.

Copyright 2008 Rebecca Solnit


Zapatista Woman