- Employers eliminated 4,000 jobs in August, ending 4 straight years of job growth in United States. The reaction from the markets was swift: by midday, the Dow was off almost 200 points and the Paris and Frankfurt exchanges were down 1.7 percent. The crunch in the credit markets, explained on the C.S.A. blog here, appears to have impacted the rest of economy, but the full effects won't be known until more data is released in the coming months. C.S.A. Bold Prediction: if a recession hits, expect the bad news to come in October.
- A tropical storm brewing off the Carolina coast could make its way to New York City, and may become a hurricane as it moves north, according to meteorologists. With the tornado that struck Brooklyn this summer still in mind, the C.S.A. wonders if the next Katrina might not hit the most populous city in the United States. We refer you back to the C.S.A.'s in-depth post on disasters and anarchy.
- A television program on the BBC plans to air footage of the slaughter of piglets, lambs, and veal calves, drawing condemnation from a farmers' lobby group and a mainstream vegetarian advocacy group, who believe the footage will be sanitized. The footage will be shown to a live studio audience, whose reaction will be gauged by the cameras, before the animals are cooked and served to the audience members.
- C.S.A. Quote Of The Day: “The odds of hitting your target go up dramatically when you aim at it.”—Mal Pancoast
Friday, September 7, 2007
The Day's News...
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
Attrition, Recuperation, Provocation
Pardon the shortage of new posting in the past week, the C.S.A. moved to a new city, or rather moved back to an old city after some time away. Expect regular postings again, starting now.
As I reacquainted myself with friends and spaces throughout the city, I had a few encounters that left me thinking about attrition and recuperation in our personal lives and how we deal with it. Let me explain.
Years ago, before I was really an anarchist, I was involved in campus labor organizing. Like many others doing the same work, I thought of myself as a radical. Although what we were doing was explicitly reformist, we imagined some kind of radical ends could be achieved (usually through "empowerment" or some other mysticism) by our organizing. We were constantly patting ourselves on the back for our "anarchist" organizing model—a consensus process (or, really, a sham that passed for consensus), a lack of designated leaders, regular anti-oppression workshops, etc...We were all convinced that we were at the forefront of the anti-globalization movement, doing the intelligent, well-conceived work that really needed doing, in the way that it needed to be done.
Naturally, we reproduced virtually every failure endemic to campus organizing over the last 50 years. Each campus group had an unofficial politburo of experienced, charismatic students that made the decisions and then had them legitimated in the faux-consensus process. Above the local leaders were the national leaders, either students who exerted an out-sized influence by virtue of their personality, ambition, or craziness, or members of the small staff of the national organization. The national leaders steered the organization, deciding on the campaigns and strategy while allowing the local leaders to chose tactics and targets. Everyone else got to be worker bees, doing the grunt work of implementing the decisions of the leaders (and perhaps working their way up the ladder in the process.)
The whole thing stunk of resumé padding, from top to bottom. The worker bees were constantly imagining new ways of presenting their organizing on internship applications. The local leaders were always angling for grants and scholarships, with their work in the organization serving as proof of their responsibility, organizational skills, and generally positive yet determined approach to "changing the world." The national leaders, by virtue of having the most contact with other organizations and their leaders, positioned themselves for the best jobs with unions, NGOs, and the national organization itself. Nauseatingly, campaigns would always gear up for something spectacular when the local leaders realized that they'd need a job by the end of the year. I imagine far less would have been done had the work not been so advantageous to our career prospects.
Almost everyone I worked with (the other leaders) went on to work for NGOs or unions. None that I know of took corporate jobs immediately, but many went to law school, claiming that they'd do environmental law or some such horseshit (I'm not just spewing slander here, I once worked at an environmental law firm, and I can assure you that the work they do is absolutely essential to the construction of new subdivisions.) While I'm certain some of those that got jobs with NGOs and unions will rise to become the next generation of do-gooder bureaucrats, most will get sick of putting in 60 work weeks for $25K a year. And when they go looking for that higher paying, less stressful job somewhere in the corporate world, their resumés will not have suffered in the least from their years of "organizing."
I've never figured out how to deal with these people when I run into them years later. Rather than seeing the frustrations we all felt as an opportunity to push further, to deepen critiques, extend visions, sharpen rhetoric, and refine tactics, they have resigned themselves to a world of corporatized struggled, complete with benefit packages and paid vacation. (Of course there are those pathetic few who felt all those same frustrations and impulses and pushed themselves straight into sectarian Marxism, but honestly, I think I prefer the corporate types. Nothing is more sickening than a person with all the answers.)
So when I see one of those people I used to work with, and they tell me about their new job as a "communications director for an NGO that helps community organizations influence policy" or about the big grant they received that will essentially make them a salaried, freelance activist, I'm at a loss for words. When someone pulled the "communications director..." line on me the other day, I just laughed, and it was immediately clear what I meant by it. My former compatriot just turned around and went back to his sushi. In another instance, unable to contain myself, I asked, "Do all former ARA members become grad students?" My friend's response was absolutely accurate: "Now you're just trying to provoke me." Both were pretty obnoxious ways for me to respond, and I regret them, but they were the product of honest frustration and confusion.
To make matters more frustrating and confusing, most of the people I know who have pushed themselves, who have challenged themselves to resist differently, who are "keeping it real", are lonely, unhealthy individuals. It seems to me that the real introductory offer made by the corporate world to ex-activists is not wealth or status (those come later), but a sustainable lifestyle, one in which they'll be able to provide for themselves materially and socially without having to reinvent the wheel. They can eat sushi, go on dates, have a stable apartment, be fashionable. The rest of the world affirms their choices even if it doesn't always agree with their politics, a matter of no small importance unless you enjoy feeling wingnutty and isolated.
To me, this matter has tremendous strategic significance. Strategy is not just analyzing the riot tourism opportunities presented by the fluctuating Euro, it's also figuring out how we're going to maintain ourselves. Our rhetoric often emphasizes the importance of everyday life, the assault on boredom, and the centrality of desire. I wonder how good we are at actually making those things central to what we do, if we'll ever be able to create fulfilling, sustainable lives for ourselves, whether we're always going to have to watch our friends cash-in on their position within the radical milieu when they burn out.
How do we approach this? What's the angle? What's the target? Matters such as this pose complex strategic problems, so much so that I wonder if we even have the tools to confront them. I'm interested to hear feedback. Please post any thoughts, experiences, or suggestions in the comments section.
As I reacquainted myself with friends and spaces throughout the city, I had a few encounters that left me thinking about attrition and recuperation in our personal lives and how we deal with it. Let me explain.
Years ago, before I was really an anarchist, I was involved in campus labor organizing. Like many others doing the same work, I thought of myself as a radical. Although what we were doing was explicitly reformist, we imagined some kind of radical ends could be achieved (usually through "empowerment" or some other mysticism) by our organizing. We were constantly patting ourselves on the back for our "anarchist" organizing model—a consensus process (or, really, a sham that passed for consensus), a lack of designated leaders, regular anti-oppression workshops, etc...We were all convinced that we were at the forefront of the anti-globalization movement, doing the intelligent, well-conceived work that really needed doing, in the way that it needed to be done.
Naturally, we reproduced virtually every failure endemic to campus organizing over the last 50 years. Each campus group had an unofficial politburo of experienced, charismatic students that made the decisions and then had them legitimated in the faux-consensus process. Above the local leaders were the national leaders, either students who exerted an out-sized influence by virtue of their personality, ambition, or craziness, or members of the small staff of the national organization. The national leaders steered the organization, deciding on the campaigns and strategy while allowing the local leaders to chose tactics and targets. Everyone else got to be worker bees, doing the grunt work of implementing the decisions of the leaders (and perhaps working their way up the ladder in the process.)
The whole thing stunk of resumé padding, from top to bottom. The worker bees were constantly imagining new ways of presenting their organizing on internship applications. The local leaders were always angling for grants and scholarships, with their work in the organization serving as proof of their responsibility, organizational skills, and generally positive yet determined approach to "changing the world." The national leaders, by virtue of having the most contact with other organizations and their leaders, positioned themselves for the best jobs with unions, NGOs, and the national organization itself. Nauseatingly, campaigns would always gear up for something spectacular when the local leaders realized that they'd need a job by the end of the year. I imagine far less would have been done had the work not been so advantageous to our career prospects.
Almost everyone I worked with (the other leaders) went on to work for NGOs or unions. None that I know of took corporate jobs immediately, but many went to law school, claiming that they'd do environmental law or some such horseshit (I'm not just spewing slander here, I once worked at an environmental law firm, and I can assure you that the work they do is absolutely essential to the construction of new subdivisions.) While I'm certain some of those that got jobs with NGOs and unions will rise to become the next generation of do-gooder bureaucrats, most will get sick of putting in 60 work weeks for $25K a year. And when they go looking for that higher paying, less stressful job somewhere in the corporate world, their resumés will not have suffered in the least from their years of "organizing."
I've never figured out how to deal with these people when I run into them years later. Rather than seeing the frustrations we all felt as an opportunity to push further, to deepen critiques, extend visions, sharpen rhetoric, and refine tactics, they have resigned themselves to a world of corporatized struggled, complete with benefit packages and paid vacation. (Of course there are those pathetic few who felt all those same frustrations and impulses and pushed themselves straight into sectarian Marxism, but honestly, I think I prefer the corporate types. Nothing is more sickening than a person with all the answers.)
So when I see one of those people I used to work with, and they tell me about their new job as a "communications director for an NGO that helps community organizations influence policy" or about the big grant they received that will essentially make them a salaried, freelance activist, I'm at a loss for words. When someone pulled the "communications director..." line on me the other day, I just laughed, and it was immediately clear what I meant by it. My former compatriot just turned around and went back to his sushi. In another instance, unable to contain myself, I asked, "Do all former ARA members become grad students?" My friend's response was absolutely accurate: "Now you're just trying to provoke me." Both were pretty obnoxious ways for me to respond, and I regret them, but they were the product of honest frustration and confusion.
To make matters more frustrating and confusing, most of the people I know who have pushed themselves, who have challenged themselves to resist differently, who are "keeping it real", are lonely, unhealthy individuals. It seems to me that the real introductory offer made by the corporate world to ex-activists is not wealth or status (those come later), but a sustainable lifestyle, one in which they'll be able to provide for themselves materially and socially without having to reinvent the wheel. They can eat sushi, go on dates, have a stable apartment, be fashionable. The rest of the world affirms their choices even if it doesn't always agree with their politics, a matter of no small importance unless you enjoy feeling wingnutty and isolated.
To me, this matter has tremendous strategic significance. Strategy is not just analyzing the riot tourism opportunities presented by the fluctuating Euro, it's also figuring out how we're going to maintain ourselves. Our rhetoric often emphasizes the importance of everyday life, the assault on boredom, and the centrality of desire. I wonder how good we are at actually making those things central to what we do, if we'll ever be able to create fulfilling, sustainable lives for ourselves, whether we're always going to have to watch our friends cash-in on their position within the radical milieu when they burn out.
How do we approach this? What's the angle? What's the target? Matters such as this pose complex strategic problems, so much so that I wonder if we even have the tools to confront them. I'm interested to hear feedback. Please post any thoughts, experiences, or suggestions in the comments section.
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