On Revolution

Porque é que hoje nenhuma revolução é possível?

De Byung-Chul Han, na Revista Punkto, em 3/9/2014

Num debate entre mim e António Negri, que ocorreu há cerca de um ano no Berliner Schaubühne, confrontaram-se duas críticas bem distintas do Capitalismo. Negri estava confiante com a ideia de uma resistência global ao “Império”, ao sistema neoliberal de dominação, apresentando-se a si mesmo como um comunista revolucionário e referindo-se a mim como um acadêmico cético. Acreditava, enfaticamente, que a “multitude”, as massas interconectadas do protesto e da revolução, iriam ser capazes de fazer cair o “Império”. A posição do comunista revolucionário pareceu-me muito ingênua e afastada da realidade. Por isso, procurei explicar a Negri porque é que hoje a revolução já não é possível.

Porque é que o sistema de dominação neoliberal é tão estável? Porque é que há tão pouca resistência? Porque é que toda a resistência, quando ocorre, se desvanece tão rapidamente? Porque é que já não é possível a revolução, apesar do crescente fosso entre ricos e pobres? Para explicar este estado de coisas é necessária uma compreensão adequada de como funcionam hoje o poder e a dominação.

Quem pretender instalar um sistema de dominação deve eliminar toda a resistência e o mesmo se aplica ao atual sistema de dominação neoliberal. Estabelecer um novo sistema de dominação requer um poder que se impõe frequentemente através da violência. Contudo, esse poder não é idêntico àquele que estabiliza o sistema internamente. Como é bem sabido, Margaret Thatcher, pioneira do neoliberalismo, tratava os sindicatos como “inimigos internos” e combateu-os violentamente. Contudo, não devemos confundir a intervenção violenta que impõe a agenda neoliberal com um poder de estabilização ou manutenção do sistema.

O poder de estabilização do sistema não é repressivo mas sedutor

O poder de estabilização da sociedade industrial e disciplinar era repressivo. Os operários eram brutalmente explorados pelos proprietários, o que originava atos de protesto e de resistência. Nesse momento, foi possível que uma revolução derrubasse as relações de produção existentes. Nesse sistema de repressão tanto os opressores como os oprimidos eram visíveis. Havia um adversário concreto – um inimigo visível – ao qual se oferecia resistência.

O sistema de dominação neoliberal tem uma estrutura completamente distinta. Hoje, o poder que estabiliza o sistema já não funciona através da repressão, mas através da sedução – isto é, cativando. Já não é visível, como no caso do regime disciplinar. Hoje, não há um adversário concreto, um inimigo, que nos retire a liberdade e ao qual se possa resistir.

O neoliberalismo transforma o trabalhador oprimido num empresário livre, um empreendedor de si mesmo. Hoje, cada um de nós é um trabalhador que se explora a si próprio na sua própria empresa. Cada um de nós é mestre e escravo na sua mesma pessoa. E também a luta de classes se transforma em luta interna de cada um consigo próprio. Hoje, aqueles que não conseguem atingir o sucesso culpam-se a si próprios e sentem-se envergonhados. As pessoas vêem-se a si próprias como o problema e não a sociedade.

O sujeito submetido nem sequer tem consciência da sua submissão

Um poder disciplinar que procura colocar o ser humano debaixo de um colete-de-forças de ordens e proibições é totalmente ineficiente. Pelo contrário, é significativamente mais eficiente assegurar que as pessoas se submetam de espontânea vontade à dominação. A eficácia que define o atual sistema advém do facto de operar não tanto através da proibição e da privação, mas procurando agradar e satisfazer. Em vez de gerar homens obedientes, esforça-se por torná-los dependentes. Esta lógica da eficiência neoliberal aplica-se igualmente à vigilância. Nos anos 80, para citar um exemplo, houve protestos veementes contra o censo demográfico alemão. Até os estudantes saíram à rua.

Do ponto de vista atual, a informação solicitada no censo – profissão, níveis de educação, distância de casa ao trabalho – parece quase ridícula. Mas naquela altura o Estado era visto como uma instância de dominação que retirava informação aos cidadãos contra a sua vontade. Essa época há muito que ficou para trás. Hoje expomo-nos de livre vontade. É precisamente este sentido de liberdade que torna qualquer protesto impossível. Ao contrário daquilo que acontecia nos dias do censo, hoje dificilmente alguém protesta contra a vigilância. O livre desnudamento e a auto-exposição seguem a mesma lógica da eficiência como livre auto-exploração. Protesta-se contra quê? Contra si próprio? A artista conceptual Jenny Holzer formulou o paradoxo da actual situação: “Protect me from what I want" [“Protege-me daquilo que quero”].

É importante distinguir entre um poder que impõe e um poder que estabiliza. Hoje, o poder que estabiliza o sistema assume um disfarce amigável e smart, tornando-se invisível e inatacável. O sujeito submetido nem sequer tem consciência da sua submissão. O sujeito pensa-se livre. Esta técnica de dominação neutraliza a resistência de modo eficaz. A dominação que reprime e ataca a liberdade não é estável. Por isso o regime neoliberal é tão estável, ele imuniza-se contra toda a resistência porque faz uso da liberdade em vez de a reprimir. Suprimir a liberdade provoca imediatamente resistências, explorar a liberdade não.

Depois da crise financeira asiática, a Coreia do Sul estava paralisada e em choque. O FMI interveio e disponibilizou crédito. Em troca, o governo teve que impor uma agenda neoliberal. Isto foi iminentemente repressivo, poder impositivo – o tipo de poder que frequentemente é acompanhado de violência e que se distingue do poder de estabilização do sistema que procura sempre passar como liberdade.

De acordo com Naomi Klein, o estado de choque social que se segue a catástrofes como a crise financeira na Coreia do Sul – ou a atual crise na Grécia – oferece a oportunidade de reprogramar radicalmente a sociedade pela força. Hoje, quase não há qualquer resistência na Coreia do Sul. Bem pelo contrário: um consenso generalizado prevalece – assim como a depressão e o esgotamento. A Coreia do Sul tem hoje a mais alta taxa de suicídio do mundo. As pessoas agem violentamente sobre si próprias em vez de procurarem mudar a sociedade. A agressão dirigida para fora, que implicaria a revolução, foi substituída pela auto-agressão dirigida contra si próprio.

Hoje, não há uma multitude cooperante e conectada capaz de se levantar numa massa global de protesto e revolução. Pelo contrário, o modo dominante de produção baseia-se em empreendedores isolados e solitários, alheados de si próprios. Antes as empresas costumavam competir entre si. Contudo, dentro de cada empresa, era possível encontrar solidariedade. Hoje, todos competem contra todos, inclusive, dentro da mesma empresa. Apesar da competitividade aumentar a produtividade, esta destrói a solidariedade e o sentido comum. Nenhuma massa revolucionária pode surgir de indivíduos exaustos, depressivos e isolados.

O neoliberalismo não pode ser explicado em termos marxistas. No neoliberalismo não tem sequer lugar a “alienação” do trabalho. Hoje, mergulhamos euforicamente no trabalho – até ao esgotamento. O primeiro nível da síndrome de Burnout [esgotamento] é a euforia. Esgotamento e revolução excluem-se mutuamente. Assim, é um erro pensar que a Multitude poderá derrubar o “Império parasitário” e construir uma ordem social comunista.

A economia de partilha leva à total mercantilização da vida

Qual é o estado atual do comunismo? Há hoje uma invocação constante da noção de “partilha” [sharing] e de “comunidade”. A economia de partilha parece substituir a economia da propriedade e da posse. Sharing is Caring [partilhar é cuidar] é a máxima da empresa “Circler”, no mais recente romance de Dave Egger: partilhar é curar, por assim dizer. Os passeios que levam até à sede da empresa estão cheios de máximas como “Comunidade Primeiro” e “Humanos trabalham aqui”. Mas o verdadeiro mote deveria ser: “cuidar é matar”

Centros de boleias digitais, que nos transformam a todos em taxistas, são igualmente divulgados com apelos à comunidade. Mas é um erro afirmar – como faz Jeremy Rifkin no seu mais recente livro, The Zero Marginal Cost Society – que a economia de partilha anuncia o fim do capitalismo inaugurando uma ordem social orientada para o comum, onde partilhar tem mais valor que possuir. O que acontece é precisamente o oposto: a economia de partilha leva, em último caso, à total mercantilização da vida.

A mudança que Rifkin celebra – da posse para o acesso – não nos liberta do capitalismo. As pessoas sem dinheiro continuam a não ter acesso à partilha, ao sharing. Mesmo na idade do acesso, continuamos a viver dentro daquilo que Didier Bingo chamou o “Ban-opticon”, onde aqueles sem meios econômicos permanecem excluídos. “Airbnb” – o mercado comunitário que faz de cada casa um hotel – fez da hospitalidade uma mercadoria, um bem de consumo.

A ideologia da “community” [comunidade] e dos “collaborative commons” [bens comuns colaborativos] levam à total mercantilização da comunidade. Tornou-se impossível uma amabilidade desinteressada. Numa sociedade de valorização recíproca e permanente, também a amizade se tornou comercializável. Tornamo-nos amáveis para obteremos melhores avaliações.

A dura lógica do capitalismo prevalece mesmo no coração dessa economia de partilha. Paradoxalmente, neste tão simpático “partilhar” ninguém dá nada a ninguém voluntariamente e de graça. O capitalismo realiza-se plenamente no momento em que vende o comunismo como mercadoria. O comunismo como mercadoria é o fim da revolução.

On Care and Work Culture

A Toxic Work World

By ANNE-MARIE SLAUGHTER, 18/09/2015, on The New York Times

Extracts:

“FOR many Americans, life has become all competition all the time. Workers across the socioeconomic spectrum, from hotel housekeepers to surgeons, have stories about toiling 12- to 16-hour days (often without overtime pay) and experiencing anxiety attacks and exhaustion. Public health experts have begun talking about stress as an epidemic.

The people who can compete and succeed in this culture are an ever-narrower slice of American society: largely young people who are healthy, and wealthy enough not to have to care for family members. An individual company can of course favor these individuals, as health insurers once did, and then pass them off to other businesses when they become parents or need to tend to their own parents. But this model of winning at all costs reinforces a distinctive American pathology of not making room for caregiving. The result: We hemorrhage talent and hollow out our society.

To begin with, we are losing women. America has unlocked the talent of its women in a way that few nations can match; girls are outpacing boys in high schools, universities and graduate schools and are now entering the work force at higher salaries. But the ranks of those women still thin significantly as they rise toward the top, from more than 50 percent at entry level to 10 to 20 percent in senior management. Far too many discover that what was once a manageable and enjoyable work-family balance can no longer be sustained — regardless of ambition, confidence or even a partner who shares tasks equally. (...)

This looks like a “women’s problem,” but it’s not. It’s a work problem — the problem of an antiquated and broken system. When law firms and corporations lose talented women who reject lock-step career paths and question promotion systems that elevate quantity of hours worked over quality of the work itself, the problem is not with the women. When an abundance of overly rigid workplaces causes 42 million American citizens to live day to day in fear that just one single setback will prevent them from being able to care for their children, it’s not their problem, but ours.

THE problem is with the workplace, or more precisely, with a workplace designed for the “Mad Men” era, for “Leave It to Beaver” families in which one partner does all the work of earning an income and the other partner does all the work of turning that income into care — the care that is indispensable for our children, our sick and disabled, our elderly. Our families and our responsibilities don’t look like that anymore, but our workplaces do not fit the realities of our lives. (...)

EVEN if men and women join forces to demand changes in the workplace, though, we cannot do this alone, as individuals trying to make our lives work and as workers and bosses trying to make room for care. Some other company can always keep prices down by demanding more, burning out its employees and casting them aside when they are done. To be fully competitive as a country, we are going to have to emulate other industrialized countries and build an infrastructure of care. We used to have one; it was called women at home. But with 57 percent of those women in the labor force, that infrastructure has crumbled and it’s not coming back.

To support care just as we support competition, we will need some combination of the following: high-quality and affordable child care and elder care; paid family and medical leave for women and men; a right to request part-time or flexible work; investment in early education comparable to our investment in elementary and secondary education; comprehensive job protection for pregnant workers; higher wages and training for paid caregivers; community support structures to allow elders to live at home longer; and reform of elementary and secondary school schedules to meet the needs of a digital rather than an agricultural economy.(...)

Change in our individual workplaces and in our broader politics also depends on culture change: fundamental shifts in the way we think, talk and confer prestige. If we really valued care, we would not regard time out for caregiving — for your children, parents, spouse, sibling or any other member of your extended or constructed family — as a black hole on a résumé. We would see it as engaging in a socially, personally and professionally valuable activity. We would see men who lean out for care as role models just as much as women who lean in for work. We would think managing kids matters as much as managing money.

Impossible, right? Yet I grew up in a society where my mother set out little vases of cigarettes on the table at dinner parties, where blacks and whites had to use different bathrooms, and in which almost everyone claimed to be heterosexual. That seems a lifetime ago, but I’m not so old. Our world has changed over the past 50 years, vastly for the better from the point of view of African-Americans, the L.G.B.T. community and families who lost loved ones to lung cancer. Given the magnitude of that change, think about how much we can still do.

We can, all of us, stand up for care. Until we do, men and women will never be equal; not while both are responsible for providing cash but only women are responsible for providing care.”

On Being a Jerk

Why It Pays to Be a Jerk

New research confirms what they say about nice guys.

By Jerry Useem, on June 2015, The Atlantic.

Extracts:

“Does it pay to be nice? Or is there an advantage to being a jerk? (…) At the University of Amsterdam, researchers have found that semi-obnoxious behavior not only can make a person seem more powerful, but can make them more powerful, period. The same goes for overconfidence. Act like you’re the smartest person in the room, a series of striking studies demonstrates, and you’ll up your chances of running the show. People will even pay to be treated shabbily: snobbish, condescending salespeople at luxury retailers extract more money from shoppers than their more agreeable counterparts do. And “agreeableness,” other research shows, is a trait that tends to make you poorer. “We believe we want people who are modest, authentic, and all the things we rate positively” to be our leaders, says Jeffrey Pfeffer, a business professor at Stanford. “But we find it’s all the things we rate negatively”—like immodesty—“that are the best predictors of higher salaries or getting chosen for a leadership position.” (…)

James honed a definition that he finally published in his 2012 book, Assholes: A Theory. Formally stated, “The asshole (1) allows himself to enjoy special advantages and does so systematically; (2) does this out of an entrenched sense of entitlement; and (3) is immunized by his sense of entitlement against the complaints of other people.” (…)

James wasn’t focused on whether assholes get ahead or not. But I ran his definition past a management professor who is: Donald Hambrick, of Penn State. He told me it sounded “almost identical” to academic psychology’s definition of narcissism. (…) The narcissists were like Grant’s givers: they clustered near both extremes of the success spectrum.

This U-shaped distribution, Hambrick grudgingly allows, suggests that “there is such a thing as a useful narcissist.” (…)

Consider the following two scenes. In the first, a man takes a seat at an outdoor café in Amsterdam, carefully examines the menu before returning it to its holder, and lights a cigarette. When the waiter arrives to take his order, he looks up and nods hello. “May I have a vegetarian sandwich and a sweet coffee, please?” he asks. “Thank you.”

In the second, the same man takes the same seat at the same outdoor café in Amsterdam. He puts his feet up on an adjoining seat, taps his cigarette ashes onto the ground, and doesn’t bother putting the menu back into its holder. “Uh, bring me a vegetarian sandwich and a sweet coffee,” he grunts, staring past the waiter into space. He crushes the cigarette under his shoe.

Dutch researchers staged and filmed each scene as part of a 2011 study designed to examine “norm violations.” Research stretching back to at least 1972 had shown that power corrupts, or at least disinhibits. High-powered people are more likely to take an extra cookie from a common plate, chew with their mouths open, spread crumbs, stereotype, patronize, interrupt, ignore the feelings of others, invade their personal space, and claim credit for their contributions. “But we also thought it could be the other way around,” Gerben van Kleef, the study’s lead author, told me. He wanted to know whether breaking rules could help people ascend to power in the first place.

Yes, he found. The norm-violating version of the man in the video was, in the eyes of viewers, more likely to wield power than his politer self. And in a series of follow-up studies involving different pairs of videos, participants, responding to prompts, made statements such as “I would like this person as my boss” and “I would give this person a promotion.” The conditions had to be right (more on this later), but when they were, rule breakers were more likely to be put in charge. (…)

There was a time in mankind’s history—well, prehistory—when being a bully was the only route to the top. We know this, explains Jon Maner, an evolutionary psychologist at Northwestern’s Kellogg School of Management, by deduction. Every last species of animal except Homo sapiens determines pecking order according to physical strength and physical strength alone. (…) “That’s a complexity of humans,” Faris says: it was not until after the human-chimpanzee split that Homo sapiens developed a newer, uniquely human path to power. Scholars call it “prestige.”

Prestige emerged when our ancestors gained the ability to exchange know-how. An undersized ape-man who knew a better way of finding berries or building a fire or trapping a gazelle could now, instead of being forced to accept beta status, attract a clientele who would trade deference for access to his expertise. Unlike dominance, which is mediated by fear, prestige is freely conferred. But once conferred, of course, it decisively changes the dynamic of power: five ordinary ape-men can, in conjunction, overcome even the strongest single antagonist. The question of “who’s in command?” was now complexified by the question of “who’s in demand?” (…) The question is whether prestige supplanted dominance as the only path to power—or whether the older system also remains operational.

Anyone who’s been through middle school might agree that “reputational aggression”—a k a vicious gossip, or even verbal abuse—seems to play a role in the status struggles of teenagers. Using data from North Carolina high schools, Faris uncovered a pattern showing that, contrary to the stereotype of high-status kids victimizing low-status ones, most aggression is local: kids tend to target kids close to them on the social ladder. And the higher one rises on that ladder, the more frequent the acts of aggression—until, near the very top, aggression ceases almost completely. Why? Kids with nowhere left to climb, Faris posits, have no more use for it. Indeed, the star athlete who demeaned the mild mathlete might come off as insecure. “In some ways,” Faris muses, “these people have the luxury of being kind. Their social positions are not in jeopardy.”(…)

The problem with competence is that we can’t judge it by looking at someone. Yes, in some occupations it’s fairly transparent—a professional baseball player, for instance, cannot very well pretend to have hit 60 home runs last season when he actually hit six—but in business it’s generally opaque. Did the product you helped launch succeed because of you, or because of your brilliant No. 2, or your lucky market timing, or your competitor’s errors, or the foundation your predecessor laid, or because you were (as the management writer Jim Collins puts it) a socket wrench that happened to fit that one job? Difficult to know, really. So we rely on proxies—superficial cues for competence that we take and mistake for the real thing.

What’s shocking is how powerful these cues can be. When Anderson paired up college students and asked them to place 15 U.S. cities on a blank map of North America, the level of a person’s confidence in her geographic knowledge was as good a predictor of how highly her partner rated her, after the fact, as was her actual geographic knowledge. Let me repeat that: seeming like you knew about geography was as good as knowing about geography. In another scenario—four-person teams collaboratively solving math problems—the person with the most inflated sense of her own abilities tended to emerge as the group’s de facto leader. Being the first to blurt out an answer, right or wrong, was taken as a sign of superior quantitative skill.

Confusing cause and correlation—the lab researcher’s bugaboo—is what the confidence man (or woman) relies on. Overconfidence is usually not a put-on, however. “By all indications, when these people say they believe they’re in the 95th percentile when they’re actually in the 30th percentile, they fully believe it,” Anderson says.

Because overconfidence comes with some well-documented downsides (see: Rumsfeld, Donald), Anderson has lately been recruiting subjects with accurate self-impressions and instructing them to act confidently when they are uncertain, and seeing whether they fare as well as the true believers. “The actors are pretty darn convincing,” Anderson reports—but not as convincing as people whose mind-sets are genuinely untethered from their skill-sets. “It’s just that being fully self-deceived gets you further,” he says. (…)

In fact, it’s easy to see how an initial advantage derived from a lack of self-awareness, or from a deliberate attempt to fake competence, or from a variety of other, similar heelish behaviors could become permanent. Once a hierarchy emerges, the literature shows, people tend to construct after-the-fact rationalizations about why those in charge should be in charge. Likewise, the experience of power leads people to exhibit yet more power-signaling behaviors (displaying aggressive body language, taking extra cookies from the common plate). And not least, it gives them a chance to practice their hand at advocating an agenda, directing a discussion, and recruiting allies—building genuine leadership skills that help legitimize and perpetuate their status. This is why, in college, it’s good to speak up on the first day of class. (…)

When I thought about whether I had friends or associates who fit Aaron James’s definition of an asshole, I could come up with two. I couldn’t pinpoint why I spent time with them, other than the fact that life seemed larger, grander—like the world was a little more at your feet—when they were around. Then I thought of the water skis.Some friends had rented a powerboat. We had already taken it out on the water when someone remarked, above the engine noise, that it was too bad we didn’t have any water skis. That would have been fun.Within a few minutes, an acquaintance I will call Jordan had the boat pulled up to a dock where a boy of maybe 8 or 9 was alone. Do you have any water skis?

The boy seemed unprepared for the question. Not really, he said. There might be some in storage, but only his parents would know. Well, would you be a champ and run back to the house and ask them? The boy did not look like he wanted to. But he did.The rest of us in the boat shared the boy’s astonishment (Who asks that sort of question?), his reluctance to turn a nominally polite encounter into a disagreeable one, and perhaps the same paralysis: no one said anything to stop the exchange. But that’s the thing. Spend time with the Jordans of the world and you’re apt to get things you are not entitled to—the choice table at the overbooked restaurant, the courtside tickets you’d never ask for yourself—without ever having to be the bad guy. The transgression was Jordan’s. The spoils were the group’s. (…)

Isolating the effects of taker behavior on group welfare is exactly what van Kleef, the Dutch social psychologist, and fellow researchers set out to do in their coffee-pot study of 2012.At first blush, the study seems simple. Two people are told a cover story about a task they’re going to perform. One of them—a male confederate used in each pair throughout the study—steals coffee from a pot on a researcher’s desk. What effect does his stealing have on the other person’s willingness to put him in charge? The answer: It depends. If he simply steals one cup of coffee for himself, his power affordance shrinks slightly. If, on the other hand, he steals the pot and pours cups for himself and the other person, his power affordance spikes sharply. People want this man as their leader.I related this to Adam Grant. “What about the person who gets resources for the group without stealing coffee?” he asked. “That’s a comparison I would like to see.”It was a comparison, actually, that van Kleef had run. When the man did just that—poured coffee for the other person without stealing it—his ratings collapsed. Massively. He became less suited for leadership, in the eyes of others, than any other version of himself. (…)

But the study also points toward a bigger and more general qualification of the advantage to being a jerk: should something go wrong, jerks don’t have a reserve of goodwill to fall back on. (…)To summarize: being a jerk is likely to fail you, at least in the long run, if it brings no spillover benefits to the group; if your professional transactions involve people you’ll have to deal with over and over again; if you stumble even once; and finally, if you lack the powerful charismatic aura of a Steve Jobs. (It’s also marginally more likely to fail you, several studies suggest, if you’re a woman.) Which is to say: being a jerk will fail most people most of the time.Yet in at least three situations, a touch of jerkiness can be helpful. The first is if your job, or some element of it, involves a series of onetime encounters in which reputational blowback has minimal effect. The second is in that evanescent moment after a group has formed but its hierarchy has not. (Think the first day of summer camp.) The third—not fully explored here, but worth mentioning—is when the group’s survival is in question, speed is essential, and a paralyzing existential doubt is in the air. It was when things got truly desperate at Apple, its market share having shrunk to 4 percent, that the board invited Steve Jobs to return (Jobs then ousted most of those who had invited him back). (…) 

As Grant himself puts it, “What I’ve become convinced of is that nice guys and gals really do finish last.” (…)So here’s what we know works: Smile at the customer. Take the initiative. Tweak a few rules. Steal cookies for your colleagues. Don’t puncture the impression that you know what you’re doing. Let the other person fill the silence. Get comfortable with discomfort. Don’t privilege your own feelings. Ask who you’re really protecting. Be tough and humane. Challenge ideas, not the people who hold them. Don’t be a slave to type. And above all, don’t affix nasty, scatological labels to people. It’s a jerk move.”

On Work and Consumerism

Your Lifestyle Has Already Been Designed

by David Cain (on the The Rapture blog)

Extracts:

“Well I’m in the working world again. I’ve found myself a well-paying gig in the engineering industry, and life finally feels like it’s returning to normal after my nine months of traveling. Because I had been living quite a different lifestyle while I was away, this sudden transition to 9-to-5 existence has exposed something about it that I overlooked before.

Since the moment I was offered the job, I’ve been markedly more careless with my money. Not stupid, just a little quick to pull out my wallet. (…) I’m not talking about big, extravagant purchases. I’m talking about small-scale, casual, promiscuous spending on stuff that doesn’t really add a whole lot to my life. (…)

I suppose I do it because I feel I’ve regained a certain stature, now that I am again an amply-paid professional, which seems to entitle me to a certain level of wastefulness. There is a curious feeling of power you get when you drop a couple of twenties without a trace of critical thinking.  (…) What I’m doing isn’t unusual at all. Everyone else seems to do this. In fact, I think I’ve only returned to the normal consumer mentality after having spent some time away from it. (…)

Here in the West, a lifestyle of unnecessary spending has been deliberately cultivated and nurtured in the public by big business. Companies in all kinds of industries have a huge stake in the public’s penchant to be careless with their money.  (…)

We buy stuff to cheer ourselves up, to keep up with the Joneses, to fulfill our childhood vision of what our adulthood would be like, to broadcast our status to the world, and for a lot of other psychological reasons that have very little to do with how useful the product really is. How much stuff is in your basement or garage that you haven’t used in the past year? (…)

The ultimate tool for corporations to sustain a culture of this sort is to develop the 40-hour workweek as the normal lifestyle. Under these working conditions people have to build a life in the evenings and on weekends. This arrangement makes us naturally more inclined to spend heavily on entertainment and conveniences because our free time is so scarce.

I’ve only been back at work for a few days, but already I’m noticing that the more wholesome activities are quickly dropping out of my life: walking, exercising, reading, meditating, and extra writing. The one conspicuous similarity between these activities is that they cost little or no money, but they take time. Suddenly I have a lot more money and a lot less time. (…)

This seems like a problem with a simple answer: work less so I’d have more free time. I’ve already proven to myself that I can live a fulfilling lifestyle with less than I make right now. Unfortunately, this is close to impossible in my industry, and most others. You work 40-plus hours or you work zero. My clients and contractors are all firmly entrenched in the standard-workday culture, so it isn’t practical to ask them not to ask anything of me after 1pm, even if I could convince my employer not to. (…)

The 8-hour workday is too profitable for big business, not because of the amount of work people get done in eight hours (the average office worker gets less than three hours of actual work done in 8 hours) but because it makes for such a purchase-happy public. Keeping free time scarce means people pay a lot more for convenience, gratification, and any other relief they can buy. It keeps them watching television, and its commercials. It keeps them unambitious outside of work.

We’ve been led into a culture that has been engineered to leave us tired, hungry for indulgence, willing to pay a lot for convenience and entertainment, and most importantly, vaguely dissatisfied with our lives so that we continue wanting things we don’t have. We buy so much because it always seems like something is still missing. (…)

All of America’s well-publicized problems, including obesity, depression, pollution and corruption are what it costs to create and sustain a trillion-dollar economy. For the economy to be “healthy”, America has to remain unhealthy. Healthy, happy people don’t feel like they need much they don’t already have, and that means they don’t buy a lot of junk, don’t need to be entertained as much, and they don’t end up watching a lot of commercials. The culture of the eight-hour workday is big business’ most powerful tool for keeping people in this same dissatisfied state where the answer to every problem is to buy something. (…)

The perfect customer is dissatisfied but hopeful, uninterested in serious personal development, highly habituated to the television, working full-time, earning a fair amount, indulging during their free time, and somehow just getting by. Is this you?”

On Motherhood I

The Mother of All Questions

By Rebecca Solnit – Harper's Magazine – Oct 2015

Extracts:

"I gave a talk on Virginia Woolf a few years ago. During the question-and-answer period that followed it, the subject that seemed to most interest a number of people was whether Woolf should have had children. I answered the question dutifully, noting that Woolf apparently considered having children early in her marriage, after seeing the delight that her sister, Vanessa Bell, took in her own. But over time Woolf came to see reproduction as unwise, perhaps because of her own psychological instability. Or maybe, I suggested, she wanted to be a writer and to give her life over to her art, which she did with extraordinary success. In the talk I had quoted with approval her description of murdering “the angel of the house,” the inner voice that tells many women to be self-sacrificing handmaidens to domesticity and male vanity. I was surprised that advocating for throttling the spirit of conventional femininity should lead to this conversation.

What I should have said to that crowd was that our interrogation of Woolf’s reproductive status was a soporific and pointless detour from the magnificent questions her work poses. (I think at some point I said, “Fuck this shit,” which carried the same general message and moved everyone on from the discussion.) After all, many people have children; only one made To the Lighthouse and The Waves, and we were discussing Woolf because of the books, not the babies. (…)

But just because the question can be answered doesn’t mean that I ought to answer it, or that it ought to be asked. The interviewer’s question was indecent, because it presumed that women should have children, and that a woman’s reproductive activities were naturally public business. More fundamentally, the question assumed that there was only one proper way for a woman to live.

But even to say that there’s one proper way may be putting the case too optimistically, given that mothers are consistently found wanting, too. A mother may be treated like a criminal for leaving her child alone for five minutes, even a child whose father has left it alone for several years. Some mothers have told me that having children caused them to be treated as bovine non-intellects who should be disregarded. Other women have been told that they cannot be taken seriously professionally because they will go off and reproduce at some point. And many mothers who do succeed professionally are presumed to be neglecting someone. There is no good answer to being a woman; the art may instead lie in how we refuse the question. (…)

Questions about happiness generally assume that we know what a happy life looks like. Happiness is understood to be a matter of having a great many ducks lined up in a row — spouse, offspring, private property, erotic experiences — even though a millisecond of reflection will bring to mind countless people who have all those things and are still miserable.

We are constantly given one-size-fits-all recipes, but those recipes fail, often and hard. Nevertheless, we are given them again. And again and again. They become prisons and punishments; the prison of the imagination traps many in the prison of a life that is correctly aligned with the recipes and yet is entirely miserable. (…)

Even those who live out the best version of the familiar story line might not find happiness as their reward. This is not necessarily a bad thing. I know a woman who was lovingly married for seventy years. She has had a long, meaningful life that she has lived according to her principles. But I wouldn’t call her happy; her compassion for the vulnerable and concern for the future have given her a despondent worldview. What she has had instead of happiness requires better language to describe. There are entirely different criteria for a good life that might matter more to a person — honor, meaning, depth, engagement, hope. (…)

After I wrote a book about me and my mother, who married a brutal professional man and had four children and often seethed with rage and misery, I was ambushed by an interviewer who asked whether my abusive father was the reason I had failed to find a life partner. Her question was freighted with astonishing assumptions about what I had intended to do with my life. The book, The Faraway Nearby, was, I thought, in a quiet, roundabout way about my long journey toward a really nice life, and an attempt to reckon with my mother’s fury (including the origin of that fury in her entrapment in conventional feminine roles and expectations).

I have done what I set out to do in my life, and what I set out to do was not what the interviewer presumed. I set out to write books, to be surrounded by generous, brilliant people, and to have great adventures. Men — romances, flings, and long-term relationships — have been some of those adventures, and so have remote deserts, arctic seas, mountaintops, uprisings and disasters, and the exploration of ideas, archives, records, and lives. (…)

In the traditional worldview happiness is essentially private and selfish. Reasonable people pursue their self-interest, and when they do so successfully they are supposed to be happy. The very definition of what it means to be human is narrow, and altruism, idealism, and public life (except in the forms of fame, status, or material success) have little place on the shopping list. The idea that a life should seek meaning seldom emerges; not only are the standard activities assumed to be inherently meaningful, they are treated as the only meaningful options.

People lock onto motherhood as a key to feminine identity in part from the belief that children are the best way to fulfill your capacity to love, even though the list of monstrous, ice-hearted mothers is extensive. But there are so many things to love besides one’s own offspring, so many things that need love, so much other work love has to do in the world.

While many people question the motives of the childless, who are taken to be selfish for refusing the sacrifices that come with parenthood, they often neglect to note that those who love their children intensely may have less love left for the rest of the world. Christina Lupton, a writer who is also a mother, recently described some of the things she relinquished when motherhood’s consuming tasks had her in their grasp, including

    'all the ways of tending to the world that are less easily validated than parenting, but which are just as fundamentally necessary for children to flourish. I mean here the writing and inventing and the politics and the activism; the reading and the public speaking and the protesting and the teaching and the filmmaking. . . . Most of the things I value most, and from which I trust any improvements in the human condition will come, are violently incompatible with the actual and imaginative work of childcare.'

One of the fascinating things about Edward Snowden’s sudden appearance a little more than two years ago was the inability of many people to comprehend why a young man might give up on the recipe for happiness — high wages, secure job, Hawaiian home — to become the world’s most sought-after fugitive. Their premise seemed to be that since all people are selfish, Snowden’s motive must be a self-serving pursuit of attention or money.

During the first rush of commentary, Jeffrey Toobin, The New Yorker’s legal expert, wrote that Snowden was “a grandiose narcissist who deserves to be in prison.” Another pundit announced, “I think what we have in Edward Snowden is just a narcissistic young man who has decided he is smarter than the rest of us.” Others assumed that he was revealing U.S. government secrets because he had been paid by an enemy country.

Snowden seemed like a man from another century. In his initial communications with journalist Glenn Greenwald he called himself Cincinnatus — after the Roman statesman who acted for the good of his society without seeking self-advancement. This was a clue that Snowden formed his ideals and models far away from the standard-issue formulas for happiness. Other eras and cultures often asked other questions than the ones we ask now: What is the most meaningful thing you can do with your life? What is your contribution to the world or your community? Do you live according to your principles? What will your legacy be? What does your life mean? Maybe our obsession with happiness is a way not to ask those other questions, a way to ignore how spacious our lives can be, how effective our work can be, and how far-reaching our love can be. (…) There are many questions in life worth asking, but perhaps if we’re wise we can understand that not every question needs an answer."